


A Changing World

by Lizzy0305



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Friendship, Hogwarts Eighth Year, Humor, Multi, Post-War, Prank Wars, Romance, Перевод на русский | Translation in Russian
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-13
Updated: 2015-01-10
Packaged: 2018-02-21 00:28:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 51,997
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2448668
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lizzy0305/pseuds/Lizzy0305
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Returning to school, Draco Malfoy and Harry Potter develop a sort of friendship. While both of them try to get used to this new life, they encounter unfamiliar challenges. The Slytherin doesn’t know how to react to being forced to marry a girl he had never met, while The Gryffindor doesn’t know how to act around a man he constantly sees. The solutions present themselves when one day they start pulling pranks on each other.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Bag

**Author's Note:**

> Now that The Potter ABC reached the last letter, it's time for me to introduce you one of my other babies. A Changing World will be mainly focused on two things: Harry and Draco's friendship and Severus and Harry's... not friendship, let's say ;) No worries darlings, don't run screaming, this will be no Harry/Draco fic, I am still wholeheartedly dedicated to writing Snarry. Yes, it will be explicit. Yes, it will be multi-chaptered and a sort of countdown until Christmas. I'm planning weekly updates, there will be twelve chapters, out of which I have currently seven finished.
> 
> JacksWild is helping me with editing this one. I'm ever so grateful for her help, encouraging words and general kindness :3 Sexy.Lil.Emo (who is seriously either magic or most probably just Vulcan) is also helping me out once again. As always, she's amazing too ;) All remaining mistakes are mine!
> 
> Any and every word from you all is very much appreciated. I'm eager to hear you opinions, remarks, whatever!
> 
> Love you all,
> 
> Liz  
> ____  
> Russian Translation by Nataniely is available here: https://ficbook.net/readfic/2975977

_“Friendship is unnecessary, like philosophy, like art...  It has no survival value; rather it is one of those things which give value to survival.”_

_― C.S. Lewis_

* * *

 

Being back in school, after everything that had happened was hard on Harry Potter. Many others had problems dealing with this new era. No more hunting, no more Carrows, and of course, no more Voldemort. Instead, Harry Potter and his friends had to deal with something, looking back on his previous years now, Harry thought much more terrifying: NEWTS.

Continuing his studies was inevitable if he still wanted to pursue his dreams as Dark Wizard hunter, which the Saviour of the Wizarding World had all intensions to do. But to be an Auror he needed to finish his education at Hogwarts and receive at least Exceeds Expectations grades in all his subjects. So in order to do that, Harry, Ron, Hermione and many other students who had missed their last semester returned to the school. Even Neville requested to be allowed back into the magical education system, his reason being that he didn't really learn much the last semester besides firstly, how to cast the Cruciatus Curse (which he was proud to say he never achieved to do), secondly, how to kill venomous snakes (in which his performance was Outstanding) and thirdly, how to survive while being haunted (in which he also did an Outstanding job, exceeding everyone expectations- even his own).

Interestingly however, Harry and secretly many others as well, did not enjoy the quiet life back in Hogwarts. They were after all used to being constantly challenged, having near death experiences, fighting Dementors and Basilisks, running from giant spiders, being possessed by Voldemort, robbing banks on dragon back and other dreadful events. For Ron and Harry, not even Quidditch was there to alleviate their well hidden boredom that they even if instinctively, tried to overcome one way or another.

And that is why, Harry Potter was now running in the corridor towards his Potions class being already five minutes late. Horatius Slughorn may be biased towards the Wizarding World’s favourite young man, but being late meant first row, something said young man wished to avoid now that he did not have a Half-Blood Prince helping him out; something, a bushy, brown-hair girl had pointed out many times before, during and after the first few Potions class of their eighth year. Harry had to agree with her, given that nowadays he barely hit the Acceptable level when it came to brewing.

The Gryffindor was already in the classroom’s corridor when something awful happened. The seam on his bag ripped just like that, and all his books, inkpots, quills and even his Invisibility Cloak (which he had kept at hand ever since the war hoping for a situation to present itself where an Invisibility Cloak might come handy) spilled out at the bottom. Harry remembered perfectly that this wasn’t the first time something like this had occurred to him, and he, too, had done this trick once or twice, so instead of crouching down he pulled out his wand and looked around.

There it was, the culprit, white-blond haired, pale and pointy faced, just like always, however the last year had taken a toll on him, too. Eyes cold and grey, but seemingly haunted, Draco Malfoy was not the spoiled brat he once had been. He was a warrior, ridiculous that might sound given the young man’s features. But Harry knew the Slytherin’s history and current situation so he lowered his wand, unafraid.

“Hey, Potter!” The blond cried and Harry rolled his eyes.

He somehow couldn't feel any enmity towards Malfoy ever since his unpleasant visit to the Malfoy Manor. After all the hatred, the Slytherin had, if not saved but at least helped him when he decided not recognize Harry’s malformed features.

Ever since the past summer while the Ministry was holding trials for the Death Eaters almost weekly and they had seen each other a lot, the Gryffindor considered them even after saving the blond’s life back in May. And besides, so many lives were saved Harry had lost count who owed something to whom, really. He had killed Voldemort, so all he wanted was to be left alone. However, Malfoy’s behaviour now suggested he wanted something else.

“I don't have time. I’m late from class,” said Harry, squatting down and reaching for his books and notes.

To his surprise, another two knees showed up close to him soon enough and hands started collecting his quills while a spell coming from a wand Harry had known very well, repaired his inkpot and even collected the spilled black liquid.

“Just... what are you doing?” The Gryffindor stared into grey eyes.

“What does it look like, Potter? I’m cleaning the floor. I’m the new Filch, you see.” The blond flared, shoving Harry’s books back in the previously fixed bag.

“Well... you do look like him...” murmured the black haired young man under his breath.

“Oi, I’m helping you here. Show some respect.”

“It was you who ruined my bag in the first place, Malfoy.” Harry glared. “So excuse me for not being nice.”

“It’s fine, I forgive you.”

Harry gaped at the blond. Draco was being serious. Unbelievable.

The lean man stood up and extended an arm towards Harry, who reluctantly (and because he was so shocked he simply did not know suddenly what else to do) accepted it and let the Slytherin pull him up.

“Don’t think anything has changed, Potter.”

“I wouldn’t dare,” answered Harry with wide eyes.

But of course, that day a lot had changed.


	2. The Tongue

It wasn’t long after the bag incident that Malfoy started showing up at their table when they were studying in the Library. The first time, to everyone’s surprised he just stashed his books and bag on the table, sat down, pulled a parchment in front of him and started writing his homework in silence. Hermione simply shrugged, Harry stared at the blond head for a while then shrugged, too returning to his Defence Against the Dark Arts homework. Ron however, kept staring at Draco during the whole evening, wordlessly but with a grimace on his freckled face. This unfortunately resulted in not finishing any of his homework and hence the youngest male Weasley had to be awake all night to write his many essays.

Later on, the Slytherin arrived in the same manner, but received less and less glaring until there was a Sunday evening, when Ron was so tired his manner got the best of him. Draco Malfoy had arrived and placed his bag on the table as usual, but this time Ronald Weasley said “ _hello”_ to him. It sounded quiet and slightly bored, but it was a hello none the less. A hello that was after a moment of silent watching even _returned_.

As it happened, the next morning, which was a cloudy Thursday sometime in October, proved to be even more of a surprise for the Golden Trio. That cloudy Thursday morning turned out to be the very first time that Draco Malfoy sat down to the Gryffindor table to eat his breakfast (pancakes with chocolate sauce- who would have guessed, really) in quiet peace. There was a collective gasp in the vast hall.

It wasn’t all that surprising when a student visited another table for a meal or two. After all, relatives got separated during the sorting, but no one expected them not to talk to one other anymore. Luna usually came over and sat with Ginny, especially on Saturday’s when the redhead had Quidditch practise in the morning.

But not Draco Malfoy. _Never_ Draco Malfoy.

Ron was, once again just staring at the blond, his egg (Sunny-Side up) hanging half way out of his mouth. Hermione was so deep in her book, she probably did not even notice or if she did, she did not seem to mind. Harry got so surprised, the gulp of hot tea he had in his mouth at that moment ended up partly in his lungs and partly on his shirt. Hermione nonchalantly waved her hand towards Harry and the next second the Gryffindor’s soiled clothing was spotless again. He coughed a few times, clearing his throat and his lungs, too most likely, and looked up. Grey eyes looked back at him.

“Lost?” asked Harry casually.

“Nope,” answered Malfoy in the same relaxed tone, before he opened the Daily Prophet and started reading, as if this were an everyday occurrence.

To everyone’s surprise (including the professors and the Headmaster of the school), it actually became an everyday occurrence.

By the beginning of December, Draco Malfoy had a regular spot at the Gryffindor table every morning, right next to Harry Potter. He always brought his copy of the Daily Prophet which he shared with Harry after finishing reading it, while Hermione shared hers with Ron (the sport pages and the crosswords at least). Even though the Golden Trio didn't turn into Golden Quartet, Draco had become a friend of sort and was treated accordingly.

There were many positive and negative outcomes of this friendship. Though Hermione insisted it wasn’t, Harry thought duelling on the corridors because some Slytherin cursed Draco was absolutely a positive result. Ron only agreed with him, when Hermione was not around. Another effect of this newly established alliance was the Headmaster’s regular visits to the Gryffindor’s table and in general. It occurred a lot that while being with Draco, Headmaster Snape had stopped next to them even if for just a few (surprisingly) polite words. Harry’s opinion on the subject was a definite _shrug_ while Ron, Hermione, Neville and even Ginny vehemently asserted that it counted as a con. Even Draco wasn’t happy about the extra attention he received from the Headmaster. Harry wasn’t so sure about this being a bad thing but he kept this belief to himself.

Having boring days when no mystery presented itself begging to be solved it seemed had an advantage, namely that Harry had time to observe the people around him.

During September, a general gloom had been present in the whole school wherever they went. It was understandable, a lot had been lost here in May. But as time went by and wounds started healing, more and more times did it happen that walking on the corridors Harry had heard laughter. Children ran carefree (until Filch or Mrs. Norris showed up), Peeves started mocking them again, and  smoke slithered out of Hagrid’s chimney, in other words, Hogwarts started going back to _normal_.

And with that, the castle warmed up again. By the time they reached the windy November, Harry felt at home again. By December, the Saviour almost felt bad for leaving the school for the Christmas holiday.

What was more, Harry and his two best friends also had time to, as stealthily as possible, keep an eye on Hogwarts’ own Headmaster, Severus Snape, newly appointed member of the Order of Merlin (First Class), but otherwise still bitter, still pale, still sneering when looking at Harry. Except of course, when Draco was around. In those times, Headmaster Snape acted civil and the Gryffindor was secretly very happy about that. Having your hero hate you was never easy to bear. Because yes, Harry wholeheartedly believed that if he, at the age of one could receive the Hero title for not doing anything just crying in his crib while his mother sacrificed herself, then Snape deserved it even more for spying on Voldemort during no less than two wars and saving the Chosen One’s life almost every time it was in danger.

Harry was, once again, keeping a not so discreet eye on the Headmaster on this fine, bright December morning, when suddenly, the Headmaster looked back. Harry was so surprised to find himself in the headlight of that strict and endless gaze that he couldn't look away. The longer their eye contact lasted the higher Snape’s eyebrows rose. In the end, the Headmaster mouthed a silent but very angry looking “What?” and Harry looked away quickly.

“He doesn’t bite, you know.” Malfoy sniggered.

“Maybe not you,” answered Harry gloomily.

“You know it was all an act. Last year.”

“Of course I know. But the six years before then, that wasn’t.”

“That doesn’t mean anything.”

Hermione looked up from the Daily Prophet. “Actually, Harry...” she looked at Draco, then back at Harry, “I used to be Mudblood, you used to be Scarhead and Ron used to be Weasel. A lot has changed.”

“Well some things didn't.” Harry sighed. “His hatred, for example.”

“Those names...” sneered Draco. “They did not change, Granger. Just because I’m hanging out with you, you’re still a Mudblood, he’s a Scarhead, and that idiot over there is just a weasel. But Severus doesn’t hate you, Potter. She’s right. A lot has changed.”

“Of course he doesn’t. And I didn't kill a megalomaniac earlier this year.” Harry laughed.

Ron in a belated response to insulting his girlfriend, shoved a piece of toast at Malfoy and asked in a low voice, “Oy ferret, how is your Dark Mark, has it faded yet?”

“Shut your mouth, Weasel.” Draco flared, the faint black tattoo on his arm being still a sore point.

Harry just laughed at his friends, as this happened at least once every other day. And as always, five minutes later and with well-earned glares from Hermione the two young men returned to their breakfasts in peace.

“As I said,” noted Harry continuing the previous topic, “nothing really changed.”

“You’re an idiot, Potter.”

“So are you. Anyways. What are we doing today?”

“Your homework, I would hope,” said a deep voice right behind the black haired Gryffindor, who shivered wildly.

“I’m done with that. Surprising it may be, the Saviour and his glorious friends spend an awful lot of time in the Library.” Draco’s gaze shifted from Snape to Harry. “I’m free in the morning. I’m having tea with Severus later this afternoon, though.”

“I’m glad they keep dragging you to the library. And Mr. Malfoy, I am Professor Snape outside my office, as you may remember me mentioning it couple of times.”

“Couple of times, he says,” Draco turned to Potter with a pained expression, but Harry did not dare laugh. “You say it every damn day, Severus. Not like I care, anyways. And besides, I’m not having tea with the Headmaster, I’m having tea with _you_.”

“I am, Mr. Malfoy, the Headmaster,” said Snape slowly as if talking to an imbecile.

“No, _Severus_ , you are my godfather. And the only father figure currently in my life, who I can look up to.” Draco stated dramatically. “I think I’ll even grow out my hair. I decided I want to look like you, you see.”

Hermione hid her face behind the newspaper, while Ron started chewing on his own hand instead of his toast. Harry couldn't help it, he snorted, trying to repress the laughter that threatened to erupt from him. Draco just kept grinning innocently.

“You find something amusing, Potter?” asked Snape.

Harry, shoulders still shaking, shook his head, not trusting himself enough to speak.

Snape laid a hand on Harry’s shoulder, who all but froze immediately and didn't even dare take a breath as long as those fingers were touching him. He just hunched slightly and tried to look insignificant.

“Draco, my dearest godson, why don’t you take example of Mr. Potter here, and shut that big mouth of yours.”

Draco laughed, his eyes watching Harry’s immobile form. “Let go of Potter, the poor bastard is so shocked, he can’t even breathe.”

Harry indignantly cried, “I’m not shocked!” and straightened himself suddenly, which resulted bumping the back of his head to the man’s belly who stood right behind him.

The Gryffindor became scarlet like the colour of his House. The hand disappeared from his shoulder and Snape moved a few steps away.

Ron had to duck under the table. Malfoy was laughing loudly. “Dear Merlin, the two of you act like lovers, who were just found out.”

If possible, Harry’s face now resembled the colour of the eggplant he had eaten last night. He did not, could not and would not look at Severus Snape now or ever again.

Snape turned, Harry only knew because he heard the swishing of his robes, and started marching towards the Entrance Hall. “Six o’clock, Draco.”

“Detention or tea?” asked the blond laughing smugly.

Snape stopped for a moment and looked back. He rolled his eyes, but the corners of his lips were curving slightly. “I am not yet sure.”

The second the man stepped out of the room, half of the Gryffindor table burst out laughing.

“See, I told you things have changed,” smiled Draco.

(◡◡‿◡✿) *******************(✿◡‿◡)

 “I’ll walk you there.” Harry offered getting bored with sitting in the Library all day.

“You would _willingly_ walk me to Severus’ office?” asked Draco stunned.

“Well I...” stuttered Harry. “I didn't say I’d go to him with you, did I? Just to the corridor.”

“Merlin, Potter, you’re such a chicken.” Malfoy sighed walking out of the Library with the Gryffindor on his heels.

“I’m not a chicken, Malfoy, I’d just rather not poke that snake. He’s too venomous.”

Malfoy stopped. “Merlin, Potter, he’s not the Dark Lord. He’s just a man like you and I. Okay, maybe not like you, you’re just some noble weirdo incapable of doing anything wrong.”

Harry only shook his head and walked on with determined steps as if he actually had somewhere to go. The Slytherin caught up fast.

“He dropped me once, you know,” said Draco quietly.

“What?”

“When I was a baby. Mother told me. Father asked him to be my godfather, he said yes, and then Mother gave me to him. He was so awkward with a child in his arms, that he literally _dropped_ me. I bounced around, so no harm done.”

Harry snorted then laughed. “Well that certainly explains why you’re such an idiot.”

That comment earned a slap on the black-haired head but the Gryffindor kept chuckling.

An evil grin appeared on Draco’s mouth. When Harry saw it, his guts started twisting into a weird knot. That wasn’t a good grin. It promised suffering.

“I’ll talk to him.” Draco said smiling.

“What? _No_. No you _won’t_ ,” roared Harry like a wounded lion.

“Now why would you say that?” Draco smiled disgustingly sweetly. “I would just tell him that you want to be friends with him, and suggest he invites you for a tea once or twice a month. Then you can sit together and braid each other’s hair.”

“No. No, no, no, no, no!” Absolutely not. I... I _forbid_ you!”

“Pfft, as if _you_ could forbid anything to me. You’re funny, Potter,” sniggered the blond. “Why didn't I think about this sooner? It’s brilliant. _I’m_ brilliant.”

“No, Malfoy, stop. Please don’t,” begged Harry.

“It will work, Potter. Don’t worry.” They stopped in front of the gargoyle, which moved away instantly. “Weird,” commented Draco, frowning at the stone statue. “I didn't even say the password.”

Harry grabbed the blond man. “Please don't do it. Just don't say a word. It’s better this way, Malfoy.”

“Draco, you’re late again,” said a strict voice behind them.

Harry groaned frustrated. He looked at Malfoy pleadingly once more then turned around. “Headmaster,” he greeted Snape and nodded, walking past him.

“Mr. Potter,” said the man curtly.              

The Gryffindor was acting fast as he turned around the corner, so fast that his thoughts didn't even catch up to his actions. If they did, he probably wouldn’t do what he was about to do. He dragged the Invisibility Cloak out of his bag and put it on fast. He turned on his heels right away, rushing back to the entrance of the Headmaster’s office.

To Harry’s great surprise, the gargoyle stepped away again. He didn't hesitate, he walked past it, muttering a soft, “Thanks.”

He heard voices from the staircase and he hurried his steps, already forgotten about the gargoyle. He managed to sneak in the door, just before Snape closed it. He moved to a corner while the Headmaster and his godson sat down at the table. Only for a moment, Harry remembered how much time he had spent here with the long bearded, white-haired old wizard, who was now sleeping right over Snape’s chair, leaning against his frame, drooling slightly.

Draco didn't need permission to sit down; he plopped in a chair even before the black eyed man reached his desk.

“Tea? Or you prefer whiskey tonight?"

“Tea’s fine,” said Draco leaning back.

While Snape prepared the tea, Draco looked around the room casually. Almost nothing had changed here since Harry saw it the last time, the little gadgets, the portraits, the books were all the same. He could even see the light blue glimmer coming from the Pensive that lay in a glass cabinet. Fawkes was gone, but his stand was still there with food and water as if Snape had been waiting for the bird to return.

“You should check that gargoyle,” advised Draco when the Headmaster handed him his cup of tea.

“And why is that?” Snape frowned as he sat down, too, finally.

“It opened without a password.”

Snape sipped his tea calmly as if this breach had meant nothing to him. Draco watched him intently.

“And you’re not surprised that I’m telling you this.” The blond seemed to think for a couple of minutes. The Headmaster just sat there, quietly watching his godson. “Am I suddenly allowed to enter this place or-“ The grey eyes widened. Harry didn't understand what was going on. Snape was still impassively drinking his tea. “Bloody hell, it’s not me. It’s _Potter,_ isn’t it.”

“For reasons probably apparent even for you, Harry Potter can freely enter this office.”

Harry was so stunned by the words, for a second he forgot he wasn’t even supposed to be here. He loudly gasped, “ _What_?” and if Malfoy hadn’t choosen that moment to drop his cup on the desk, he probably would have been caught. That was something the dark haired young man wanted to avoid, given the severe consequences. He really didn't need one of these gadgets to be thrown at him. 

“It’s not bloody apparent, I’m your godson, not him.”

“Do not be jealous, Draco, you’re older than that.”

“And we’re not even in a war anymore,” continued Draco as if he didn't even hear the Headmaster.

“Harry Potter was and will always be welcomed at Hogwarts.”

Harry was about to interrupt, that no matter how welcomed he was here even in Dumbledore’s time he always needed the password to enter. He had to put his own hand on his mouth so that he didn't speak his thought aloud. He silently begged for Draco to ask the questions that were screaming in his mind.

“In Hogwarts, yes. But not in your office,” spat the blond petulantly.

“Leave the matter at once, or I’ll ask _you_ to leave.”

Draco watched his godfather for a few minutes then sighed resigned as if understanding that if Snape didn't want to answer something he surely would not. This was, as far as Harry was concerned, absolutely true.

“It’s funny though. He’s scared almost shitless when you show up, Merlin knows why. You should-“

The headmaster never heard what he should do because Harry aimed his wand and casted a nonverbal Langlock jinx. Malfoy clutched at his throat, and gulped panicky. Snape stood immediately and rushed to the other side of the table.

“Open your mouth,” he ordered then inspected the blonde’s gob and Harry knew what he would see there. Namely, Malfoy’s tongue stuck to the roof of his mouth.

Snape muttered the counter curse and looked around the room suspiciously. With drumming heartbeat, Harry waited to be found, realizing only then that Snape was perfectly aware that the Gryffindor possessed an Invisibility Cloak.

But then Snape just went behind his desk again and sat down.

“That bloody fucker, he-“

Harry couldn't risk Malfoy speak about him again, so he casted the jinx again. Malfoy, being rendered unable to speak once more only slammed his fists onto the desk. The Headmaster rolled his eyes and said, “Finite Incantatem.”

The Slytherin snorted angrily and opened his mouth, surely to insult Harry more but the Headmaster held up a hand.

“It would be wise to not mention Mr. Potter anymore tonight.”

Draco considered him for a moment, than nodded leaning back. Harry felt relieved.

“You want that whiskey now?” asked Snape with something close to laughter in his voice.

“Definitely,” sighed Draco.

During the rest of the visit there was no mention of Harry in any manner. The Gryffindor quickly got bored with Draco’s retelling of his past days and tuned out the voices. He studied the gadgets and the books around but as he couldn't touch anything he soon dropped onto the ground and closed his eyes.

The fact that he was allowed in this office without a password, was shocking and he couldn't get his head around this information. Why? Not even Dumbledore gave him that luxury. Now that he was in possession of this fact he suddenly remembered that indeed, after the battle he came in here with Ron and Hermione and they had walked past the gargoyle without needing password. Was that Snape’s doing or Hogwarts? He pushed up his glasses and rubbed his eyes before he looked around.

He all but jumped up terrified. He was alone with Snape in his office. The blond was gone and the door was closed. The Headmaster was leaning against the wall, looking out at the dark grounds.

When Harry staggered against the bookcase behind him slightly dizzy from rising up too quickly, the black eyed man must have heard the noise, because he smiled slightly and looked towards where the Gryffindor stood with furiously beating heart.

“Using my own spell, Potter, right in front my eyes. Do you not learn from your own mistakes?” Said Snape, his eyes back on the darkness outside.

Harry remained silent and unable to move. Only the little tremors in his limbs told him that he wasn’t in fact petrified. He waited for a sudden move, ready to cast Protego or to duck from the incoming spell but the Headmaster did not draw his wand. He just turned around and walked to the door, opening it.

“Goodbye, Mr. Potter,” said Snape softly with no anger or enmity in his voice. “And remember, I do not tolerate well the invasion of my privacy. You may come to me any time you wish, but come visibly.”

Harry gulped breathing heavily. He made an uncertain step towards the door still expecting a jinx but the tall man just stood there holding the door open, his back straight, his black gaze fixed on the thin air eyelevel to him. He wasn’t even attempting to find Harry.

The black haired young man rushed carefully to the door and let his hand brush the other’s on the door so that the Headmaster would know he was gone. He ran down the staircase, perfectly aware but not caring in the slightest about his drumming footsteps. He ran until he reached the corridor and ran some more, just in case.

He dragged the Cloak off himself and stashed it into his bag, roaming in a circle in the middle of the corridor. He kept looking back, still expecting Snape to be marching towards him, waving his wand casting spells, one more gruesome than the other.

But nothing like that happened. The corridor was empty and quiet. Paintings were snoring, armors creaked, but no fuming Headmaster approached.

Harry finally dared to relax and breathe. 


	3. The Broom

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Halloween you all! May you have horrifying one! :)

It was still early morning and the sky was cloudless while the cold winter Sun shone brightly in the magical ceiling of the Great Hall. Even though it was a Sunday, Harry had had a very weird dream about Snape and Malfoy both shouting at him and he all but bolted from his bed after waking up. Having all his homework done and his friends still sleeping, he decided he would have an early breakfast and then head out to the Quidditch pitch to fly some. He hadn’t ridden his broom for a month now and he missed the feeling.

Spooning into his porridge, he watched the other students oozing slowly into the Great Hall. By the time he had finished eating, many murmuring and yawning children sat at every table, including Luna Lovegood. He waved at her and she smiled back, while tilting her head slightly, making her carrot earrings dangle in her ears. Harry stood up to go to her and have a chat when someone touched his shoulder. Scared but weirdly somehow excited, too he turned around, expecting the tall Headmaster behind him again, but instead, Minerva McGonagall looked down at the Gryffindor Golden Boy.

“Mr. Potter, please take this to the common room,” said Professor McGonagall handing Harry a piece of parchment. “I will need the list of the students’ names staying here for the holidays by this evening. Tell the others and please bring the parchment back to me by eight tonight.”

“Of course, Professor,” answered the Gryffindor with a smile.

Minerva smiled at him curtly then went to the main table and sat down next to Snape, engaging him in conversation, while pouring out some tea for herself.

Harry walked to Luna, rolling the parchment between his fingers.

“Hello, Harry,” said Luna in her dreamy voice.

“Hello, Luna,” smiled Harry. “Would you like to go flying with me?”

“I don't have a broom.”

“You can use mine.” Harry shrugged. “I have to take this to the common room but after that we could head out to the pitch. What do you think?”

“Sure, Harry. ”

Harry smiled at her one last time, then rushed out of the Great Hall. Walking towards the Gryffindor Tower he ran into Malfoy. The blond did not mention the incident though Harry was prepared to give him an explanation. He just greeted the Gryffindor as always.

Harry told him about his plans with Luna, but Malfoy just said he would join them after breakfast, though Harry knew he would not sit on a broom. He had not seen Malfoy fly ever since that fateful night in the Come and Go Room.

Hermione, Neville and Ginny were all in the common room, when Harry climbed through the portrait, waiting for Ron to come down. Harry just hung the piece of parchment on the notice board when Ron appeared, waving a letter.

“Mum and Dad!” He cried running down the stairs. He sat on a couch and his sister rushed there, too, peaking over his shoulders. He opened the letter and read it mumbling slightly. “They say they want to visit Fleur and Bill for Christmas, because-” there was a short pause as his eyes moved on and then he cried up, “ _What_?” He looked around looking slightly shocked, while Ginny giggled behind him.

“What?” Ask Hermione and Harry at the same time.

“Fleur. She’s pregnant.” Ron grinned.

“Oh but that’s wonderful!” said Hermione, gleefully.

Harry couldn't contain the smile on his face as he pinned the parchment onto the notice board. Then, realizing they would be staying here now that Mr. and Mrs. Weasley would go the Shell Cottage for Christmas, he swiftly scribbled down their names right on top of it.

With their broom on their shoulder, they rushed down to the Great Hall to tell the news to Luna as well, who reacted with a broad smile and weird tips about how to influence the baby’s gender like petting Crups backwards while standing in Thestral poop (to have a wizard boy), and turning a butterfly into a hawk at the first full moon after the conception while shouting a spell in Egyptian (to have a witch girl).

After the late comers had breakfast, too, they all went down to the Quidditch field, while Malfoy stayed to have a few words with the Headmaster before “he would grace this pathetic bunch with his presence”, as he had put it.

As soon as they walked through the gates to the field Ron was on his broom, pushing himself away from the ground. Harry, as promised gave his Firebolt to Luna, who following Ginny’s advices soon was flying nicely up in the blue sky. Hermione and Harry meanwhile were walking on the ground as the black haired boy talked to his friend about last night in the Headmaster’s office.

“Harry, why did you do it?” Cried Hermione when Harry finished the tale.

“I couldn't let Malfoy tell anything to Snape. He would ridicule me the rest of my life, ‘Mione.”

“But Harry, it was pointless. How do you know Draco’s not doing it right now?”

The wizard stopped for a second, frowning. “Shit. I hope he thinks the jinx is permanent. Besides, maybe he doesn’t always talk about me with Snape.” He looked at the bushy haired girl but her expression told him, his hopes were in vain.

“I think you should apologize, Harry.” Hermione said quietly. “You always tell me you don’t know why he hates you, but then you do something like this and what’s worse you _never_ apologize.”

“That’s not true,” flared Harry but he did not have to look at the girl to realize she was correct.

“Harry, if you want him to treat you fairly, you should show him you’re not like your dad.”

“But, ‘Mione,” moaned Harry in a desperate voice, “I’m _not_ like my dad. Am I?”

“Of course not, you’re not a bully. But you’re... well... I’m sorry Harry, but you’re rude.” Hermione stopped and looked at Harry so he would know she’s serious. “Listening in on other people’s conversations? Really? Sneaking in his office? And I’m not even going to mention all the stuff you did before.”

“It’s not like we haven’t eavesdropped on people in the past, Hermione,” huffed Harry.

“Those were different times, Harry. This was an absolute personal conversation between them, and you had selfish reasons. You weren’t eavesdropping on Death Eaters, but on the Headmaster and his godson.”

Harry thought about that for a second and imagined how he would have felt if Snape had listened in on one of his conversations with Sirius. He knew he would have been furious probably. A sickening feeling filled his stomach so he shook his head. “It doesn’t matter, besides, as it turns out, I’m actually _allowed_ in his office.”

“And that’s even worse, Harry.” Big brown eyes looked at him, disappointment ringing clear in them. “He trusted you with something and you betrayed his trust.”

The “again” in the end of the sentence was unsaid but Harry heard it loud and clear. He leaned against the stand and looked up at the sky, his gaze following Luna as she roamed the endless circles, passing a red ball to the two redheads and Neville up there with her.

“I’m horrible,” The Saviour murmured, trying to swallow back the knot, which had formed in his throat.

“You’re not horrible, Harry,” said Hermione gently patting him on the shoulder. “You’re just blinded when it comes to Snape.”

Luna landed not much later in front of them and gave Harry back his broom. Harry thanked her, eager to be up there again. But when he attempted to put his leg over the broom something weird had happened. The Firebolt jerked slightly, and Harry felt as it became slightly smaller. He tried again and the effect repeated itself. The broom was now half its original size.

Harry looked around shocked.

“Interesting,” said Luna in a dreamy voice. “It worked fine for me.”

Harry gave her back the broom, which expanded to its normal size right away. But when he took it back and held it in his hands, it started getting smaller and smaller until it became so tiny, not even a child could ride it. The Gryffindor looked at his friends desperately and Hermione arms in arms with Luna tried to do their best to solve the mystery. The Firebolt worked perfectly for everyone, even Hermione sat on it, but as soon as his owner tried to mount it, it shrank.

Harry looked around many times, certain that he would spot a blond haired wizard somewhere, but Draco Malfoy wasn’t anywhere around, or if he was, he was hidden so well, not even spells revealed him.

Ron offered him his broom but Harry politely refused, gave his back to Luna and marched up onto the stands in angry frustration. He dropped down and watched his friends from there. He couldn't help but think this was some sort of divine punishment for what he had done last night.

The Gryffindor heard the approaching footsteps. Though they were quiet, he had no problem identifying to whom they belong to. His suspicion was confirmed when the black clad man sat down next to him.

He tried really hard not flinch away when their knees touched in the small seats. He forced himself to look at Headmaster Snape, but the man was watching the flying students in the air, his black eyes following the zigzagging movements.

“Have you decided whether you will stay here for the holidays, Mr. Potter?”

Harry didn't know what to think of the question so he answered it honestly. “I was supposed to go to Ron’s, but he just got a letter from his parents. They are going to visit Bill and Fleur for Christmas; she’s pregnant, you see. So it seems, we’re staying here.” When Snape didn't say anything, Harry added in a quiet voice, “If that’s okay with you, sir.”

“Where you spend your holidays does not concern _me_ , Mr. Potter,” said the long haired man sharply. “I asked because of Draco.”

“Oh,” murmured Harry, still watching the Headmaster’s well-known profile.

“I would rather not have him celebrate Christmas alone this year.”

Harry knew Lucius Malfoy made a deal with the Aurors and was promised freedom for the names of the Death Eaters serving Voldemort. However the Aurors weren’t willing to let him go until the last of the escaped dark wizards were under arrest. But Draco still had his mother.

“What about-“

“Narcissa Malfoy is fairly motivated to make certain arrangements happen in the near future and is currently busy with that. Draco prefers not to stay around his mother for too long.”

“But you’re still here for him, aren’t you,” noted Harry remembering the afternoon teas every Saturday and the regular conversations.

“I... I do not matter,” said Snape hesitantly.

“Of course you matter.” Harry reacted almost immediately. That made Snape finally turn his head towards the younger wizard. When their gaze connected, the Gryffindor looked away quickly. “I mean...”

“All I can say is you should ask Draco about someone called Astoria Greengrass. If you truly are friends as he says, he will tell you what you need to know and then you will probably understand what _I_ meant.” With that, the Headmaster stood up. “Mine- Professor McGonagall will once again connect her fireplace to the Floo Network in case you and your friends wish to visit Mr. and Mrs. Weasley. Please give my best to Arthur and Molly, too, if you see them.”

“I... Sure, I will, sir.” Harry stuttered towards the back of the headmaster, who was walking away with fast steps.

Harry stood up as well. “Sir?” Snape stopped but didn't turn around, and Harry was very grateful for him for not doing so. He probably wouldn’t be able to say anything if they stood face to face. Harry took a deep a breath. He could see Snape move one of his legs so he spoke before the older wizard walked away. “I’m sorry, Headmaster Snape.” His voice rang clearly between them in the crispy morning air. “I apologize for my behaviour, sir, it was inappropriate and... It won’t happen again.”

Harry didn't know what kind of response he expected, if he expected anything, but the laughter that erupted from Snape was definitely something not just unexpected and rather astonishing, but the deep, rich laugh sounded quite pleasant and made Harry feel even warmer.

“After all this time and you still manage to surprise me, Potter,” said Snape with amusement evident in his tone then he walked down from the stand. Harry, feeling somewhat lightheaded, followed the man’s route with his eyes until he disappeared through the gates.


	4. The Elf

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I swear this will get more exciting in the next chapters! n_n

Harry and the others decided that they would skip lunch in the Great Hall that day and rather celebrate in the common room. As the weather was quite chilly outside and they spent almost all the forenoon in the coldness, all of them were nursing frozen, red hands. The two redheads, Hermione and Neville ran upstairs to the Gryffindor Tower, eager to crouch around the warm fireplace, while Luna headed towards the common room of her own House. She needed to finish an urgent letter to her father, about the sighting of a Crumple-Horned Snorkack somewhere nearby.

Harry walked towards the kitchen, deep in his thoughts thinking about his previous conversation with the Headmaster. Who was this Astoria? Why was her name so familiar? And what did she have to do with Malfoy?

“How was flying, Potter?”

Harry shaken from his thoughts, swirled around. “Fix my broom, will you. It worth more than your life.”

Draco laughed. “Didn't like my little trick, did you? Well, imagine how crap it feels when your tongue is glued to your mouth. You’re lucky I didn't glue that piece of wood to your arse, Potter.”

“I still wouldn’t look as ridiculous as you,” teased Harry, smiling.

“Scarface,” muttered Malfoy as he reached Harry. “What are you up to, anyways? Gryffindor Tower isn’t this way. Or did you finally request to be where you belong? In Hufflepuff?”

“Fleur Weasley is pregnant. We’re celebrating in the common room. I’m going to the kitchen for some butterbeer and food. Want to join us?”

“Merlin no. I hate children.”

“It’s not born yet, you realize that right? It won’t actually _be_ there.” Harry smirked.

Draco just grunted in reply.

“Then come with me to kitchen at least.”

They walked quietly and when they reached the painting of the fruit bowl, Harry tickled the pear and the door opened for them. Draco let out an amazed gasp when he walked through the entrance.

“How the hell do you know all these stuff?” Asked Draco frowning slightly at the four little elves who showed up right away. “Urgh, don’t touch me.”

“Malfoy,” said Harry warningly, “treat them nice or I jinx you out of here.”

“Yes, Master Potter.” The blond squeaked in a high pitched voice, clearly mocking the elves. Harry shot him a glare, but Draco just shrugged.

They were soon stirred and seated at one of the tables with plates of biscuits and mugs of nice, warm butterbeer in hand. Harry asked the elves to send some food in the Gryffindor common room who were more than eager to fulfil his wish. While the little elves were busying around them, Kreacher showed up and made sure neither Harry nor Draco ran out of anything.

After a few gulps of butterbeer, Harry raised his glance at the blond.

“So... who is this Astoria?”

Malfoy spat out the gulp of liquid that was in his mouth as if it were Skeleton Grow not delicious beer.

“How do you know about her?”

The black haired wizard just smiled. There was only one person in the whole world, who knew about this and would even tell Harry. Draco must have realized it, too, because he shook his head irritated.

“It’s not fair, you know. I get my tongue glued to my mouth for wanting to talk about you with him, but you two can gossip as much as you want about me?”

“We didn't gossip. He’s just... worried about you.”

“I thought you were scared of him, Potter. Now you’re best friends?”

“We’re far from friends, Malfoy. So, who’s this Astoria, then?” Insisted Harry. He wanted to believe that Malfoy and him were indeed friends enough so he should know about the girl and whatever she meant for the Slytherin.

The blond regarded Harry for a few seconds, then looked down at his mug. He rubbed the rim as if it were dirty. When he couldn't stall any longer, he said quietly, “My future wife.”

“What?” Came the stunned reaction from the Golden Boy. “But... you’re so young. And... how do you even know her?”

Draco laughed but it was bitter. “That’s the problem. I don't know her.”

“So it’s...”

“Yes, Potter, it’s an arranged marriage. Well, it will be anyways.” There was silence between them, then Draco added, “She’s here, in Hogwarts.”

“But then why don’t you... I don't know, say hi to her, or something.”

“Say hi to- Merlin, Potter, do you know nothing about traditions?”

“Well if I were getting married off to some random girl, I wouldn’t give a damn about traditions. I would want to know who she is as soon as possible.”

“She’s not a random girl,” growled Malfoy, “she comes from a respected family-“

“So protective of your girlfriend already,” Harry teased. “Yes, I know. Pure Blood and rich. Obviously. Do you know anything else?”

Malfoy looked into the green eyes. “Ravenclaw.” He groaned as if it were a disease. “Two years younger. Has an older sister in Slytherin.”

That explained why the name was familiar to Harry. Now, he faintly remembered their classmate from Malfoy’s House, who shared Astoria’ last name.

“That much? And you’re marring this girl? Are you okay with this? Can’t you do something?”

“That’s all I know. And no, nothing to do. Severus still fights against Mother but... he doesn’t matter.”

“Why is everyone keep saying he doesn’t matter. He’s bloody Snape, of course he matters.”

Draco snorted. “So protective of your boyfriend, Potter.” Draco teased back smugly.

Harry could feel himself becoming hotter so he hid his face behind the rim of his mug before Malfoy could notice.

“He’s not blood, Potter. Even my aunt, Andromeda has more say in this than Severus right now, and she’s a blood traitor.”

“Careful there, Malfoy, you’re talking about _my_ godson’s grandmother.”

“I don't even know her, Potter, I was just stating the facts.” Malfoy waved with a hand. “So no, Severus can’t do anything and I will have to marry a Ravenclaw.”

“Just because she’s a Ravenclaw, she can’t be nice?”

“I bet she’s a Know-It-All like Granger,” huffed Draco.

“But you like Hermione.”

The blond snapped up his head at that. “She punched me in the fucking face, Potter, I don't like her. I tolerate her, because I like you.”

Harry didn't comment on the confession. There wasn’t really anything to say. After all, he did like Malfoy as well.

“You should talk to her.” He advised instead.

“Oh really, and say what exactly? Hey I’m your husband from next June, want to share a bloody biscuit?”

“I would leave out the bloody part, but other than that, yeah. Something like that. Malfoy, she’s younger than you, she’s forced into this too, and I’m sorry, but have you looked into the mirror recently? You’re paler than a ghost and you look like you expect Death around every corner.”

Draco raised an eyebrow. The gesture seemed so familiar to the Gryffindor, he knew right away the blond had picked that up from a certain Headmaster. “Did you just call me ugly?”

“Yes, Malfoy, I did. You’re ugly. And probably scary for her. You have the fucking Dark Mark on your arm and unless she’s a true Tom Riddle fan, I highly doubt she feels relieved to marry one of Voldemort servants.”

“I wasn’t a _servant_ , Potter!” Flared the blond.

“No, Malfoy, you were a puppet, just like all the others, a pawn in his game! He used you to punish your father. Tom Riddle did not have friends or allies, he had underlings and enemies he chose to keep close.”

Malfoy stared at him with rage in his gray eyes but did not say anything.

“You’re not that man anymore, Malfoy, you’re not just a puppet,” said Harry quietly.

“There is nothing I can do about this, Potter, why is it so hard to understand. It was decided when she was born.”

“Get to know her, then. If you don't like each other, at least you can make... special paragraphs in the wedding contract.”

The blond gaped at him. “Are you saying, I should get to know my future wife before the wedding, so if we don't like each other we can make arrangements for an open marriage before signing anything?”

Harry nodded. “Even if it means breaking some old traditions.”

“That is a very Slytherin way of thinking, Potter.” Malfoy smirked slyly. “And now I am very proud of you.”

Harry straightened his back, smiling. “I picked up a few things here and there during the years.”

“I’ll go tell Severus and we’ll see what he thinks. Until then, think about how I should chat up my wife.” The Slytherin stood from the table and rushed to the door. As he stepped over the threshold he stopped for a second and looked back at the waving elves. Harry chuckled when he heard Malfoy thank them for their service.

“Is there anything Kreacher can do for Master?”

The Gryffindor looked at the old creature slowly then just stared at him for a few seconds. A plan formed in his mind and he smiled evilly.

“Yes, Kreacher, as it turns out, you can help me with something very important.”

Kreacher blinked rapidly. “Of course, Master.”

(◡‿◡✿) *******************(✿◡‿◡)

After a long talk with his godfather, Draco walked to the Great Hall to have some lunch. He marched past the Hufflepuff students and chose a seat at the very end of the Slytherin table, closer to the professors. Duelling on the corridors with Potter and Weasley next to him was fun, but there was nothing entertaining in being cursed while trying to enjoy his meat pie. The closeness of his professors worked rather well against this hazard. He sat down with his back to the Ravenclaw table and reached for his fork to get some pie on his plate.

His fork levitated away.

“What the hell?” Cried the Malfoy heir loudly enough that several heads turned towards his direction. He wanted to grab his knife but it slipped away, too before he could touch it even with a finger. Soon enough he was surrounded with levitating cutlery, pastry, meat pie and even a few roasted chicken wings circled over the table in front of him.

When a third year Slytherin boy started laughing, Malfoy gave him a nasty look and snapped his hand at him. The boy rose from his seat with a jerk then shouted for help hovering over his House’s table. Professor McGonagall hurried towards them with a stern expression.

“What on earth is going on here?” She asked frowning.

“It’s not me, Professor, it’s Potter,” stated Draco with conviction.

“Don’t be absurd, Mr. Malfoy, Potter isn’t even in the Hall right now.”

“It doesn’t matter where he is, it’s him, I know it.”

Professor McGonagall tried bringing down the levitating objects and student with no apparent effect.

“Please exit the Great Hall, Mr. Malfoy, and visit Madame Pomfrey,” advised the Head of Gryffindor with concern tainting her usually strict tone. “And Mr. Malfoy, please refrain from touching anything.”

Draco turned on his heels feeling slightly humiliated. “Get out of my way!” He flared pushing people away. Still however, he couldn't touch anyone; people just started hovering away from him. He heard giggles from behind him, but he did not look back.

He was marching down towards the Slytherin rooms, when familiar, dreamy voice called his name. He stopped turning around slowly, curious what Luna Lovegood would want from him.

“I think you were amusing in there,” said the dirty blond haired girl.

She wasn’t alone, though. Judging by her uniform, another Ravenclaw girl walked behind her and Draco had a very good suspicion, who it might be.

“Yes, well, I didn't find it that amusing.”

“How did you do it? It wasn’t a simple levitating spell, was it?”

“It wasn’t me,” said Draco curtly. “It was Potter.”

 “Anyway, I think it was really funny. I’ve never seen Professor McGonagall that confused.” The brown haired girl chuckled, rather charmingly Draco had to admit. “Are you hungry?” She asked then.

“Famished,” grunted Draco rubbing his belly. He only had a toast and some eggs for breakfast.

Lovegood just stood there smiling mysteriously, while the other girl held out a small bag towards the Slytherin. “It’s just some meat pie. I hope you like it.”

Draco eyed the bag suspiciously for a few second then almost reached for it but then thought otherwise. The pretty Ravenclaw girl seemed sad for a moment.

“I highly doubt it would be a good idea,” said the wizard carefully. “I would rather not have you float around, as well.”

She chuckled and Draco realized he could get used to that sound fairly quickly. “Why don't we sit down somewhere? I could maybe try levitating food into your mouth.” She teased.

Draco laughed. “Okay, but we should skip that levitating thing.”

Luna waved them goodbye and returned to the Great Hall to finish her lunch. The other two started walking towards the Main Entrance.

“I’m Astoria, by the way. Astoria Greengrass.” The young witch said with a soft smile as they stepped outside.

“Draco, Draco Malfoy,” said the Slytherin smiling, too.

They strolled on the grounds in silence next to each other for a few minutes, not sure what to say, when Astoria spoke quietly, “It’s nice to finally meet you, Draco.”

“Yeah,” the young man murmured suddenly anxious, then he looked at the girl on his side. When their eyes met, Draco saw only uncertainty and curiosity in the hazel eyes. Potter was right; she was just as worried about this marriage as he was. “Yes,” he said then more determined, “it’s quite the pleasure to meet you as well.”


	5. The Kiss

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please let me know what you think :))

“Oh, so you’re going home for Christmas?”

“Yes, Harry, I know we-“

“It’s alright, Hermione, you should,” smiled Harry. “After last year... I think you should spend Christmas with your mum and dad.”

“I just don't know how to tell Ron,” sighed the girl, sitting on the couch in front of the fire in the warm Gryffindor Tower. She looked at her boyfriend playing wizard chess with Neville not far away. “He was so excited to be together this holiday.”

“Why don't you take him with you? I mean it’s not like you haven’t spent Christmas at the Burrow yet.”

“You think he would come?” Asked the bushy haired girl, contemplating the idea.

The Saviour of the Wizarding World leaned back and smiled at his friend. “Well, there’s only one way to find out. Just make sure you decide tonight. McGonagall wants the list of who’s staying by eight this evening.”

Hermione stood up and Harry followed her with his eyes as she went to the playing wizards. She sat on the armrest of the redhead’s chair as she talked. Ron froze, one hand hovering over his queen and looked up at the girl. He gulped visibly, and then nodded. She positively beamed before she leaned down and placed a soft, chaste kiss on his lips.

She didn't notice the adoring glance that followed her as she stood and came back to Harry. “He’s coming.” She reported, looking happy.

They talked about the upcoming holiday for a few more minutes, then it was just comfortable silence between them. Ginny walked past, joining her brother and Neville.

The Gryffindor in the cosy chair could feel Hermione’s heavy gaze on him.

“What?” he asked looking at her.

“Christmas could be a good opportunity for you to...” started the cleverest witch hesitantly. “You know, to clear things up a bit.”

Harry watched the flaming, long red hair, the curving body, the bright smile. He wasn’t surprised to feel only nothingness inside.

“I love Ginny,” stated Harry quietly. “I would do anything to make her happy.”

“But you aren't in love with her?”

“She’s funny, she’s beautiful, she’s clever, she’s perfect,” listed the wizard, his eyes still lingering on the girl she was speaking about. Then he looked at Hermione as he added shaking his head. “Yet I’m not in love with her at all.”

“Is there... someone else?” asked Hermione and when the other young Gryffindor raised an eyebrow she said, “I just don't want you to be alone, Harry.”

“I’m not alone, ‘Mione, I have you guys. And even Malfoy.”

Hermione watched him frowning slightly for a couple of minutes, long enough that the black haired young man became uncomfortable and chose to look at the fire instead of the girl.

“Can I ask you something, Harry?”

“Sure,” answered the Chosen One carefully.

“Are you... is it possible that you are... gay?”

Harry was sure he didn't hear it correctly. “What?”

“Gay? Or bisexual. I mean the way you behave around-“ Harry suddenly remembered a certain Headmaster’s touch on his shoulders and the warm sensation that filled his belly when their knees touched on the Quidditch pitch. “-Malfoy.”

“Malfoy?” Harry cried indignantly. “ _Draco Malfoy_?!”

“No, Harry, I’m talking about his dad, Lucius!” Came the ironic retort. “Of course Draco.”

“He’s a friend, Hermione. A _friend_. And he’s not really doing a good job even in that.”

The girl laughed, and Harry just shook his head. “Besides, he’s not even my type.”

“What _is_ your type?”

Harry thought about it. Soon a pretty clear image showed up in his mind but he quickly brushed it away, labelling it way too impossible.

“Boy or girl?”

Harry looked around the common room, watching the people in his own House. There were many types around him: young and beautiful, blond, curvy, handsome, brawny, lean, brown haired, pretty, round faced, round arsed, black, tall and short. And yet, Harry couldn't say he found any of them even remotely attractive.

He sunk even deeper into the comfy chair. He didn't notice how the common room suddenly quieted. He cast his glance downright as he said, “They are too immature and-“ Shiny, black boots stepped to the spot he was eyeing. His gaze shifted upwards, taking in the long -damn how very _long_ legs, the crotch, the narrow hips. “Well _hello there_ ,“ he mumbled appreciating the wider chest, the square shoulders, the long black hair. Now _that_ was his- “Snape! Damn, I mean Prof- I mean _Headmaster_. Hello, Headmaster.” He sat up, panic rising inside him with the same speed as Snape’s eyebrows shot up.

“Mr. Potter. May I have a word with you?”

Harry looked at his friends; old habits die hard. Hermione was for some reason smirking, Ron seemed almost as surprised as Harry. The redhead was halfway out of his chair, leaning over the chessboard, sizing up the Headmaster as if he were ready to attack. He probably was. Severus Snape had never stepped into the Gryffindor Common Room. Ever. This must mean something bad.

“Sure,” said the messy haired young man as he stood up. He contemplated for a second where they could have some privacy. It was either outside in the corridor, where there were paintings, or upstairs, in the dormitory. He was pretty sure, he did not want to see Snape anywhere near a bed, his thoughts had been already confusing enough.

The professor decided his dilemma when he walked to a quieter corner near the windows. Harry obediently followed him.

“The results of your latest prank have just been brought to my attention,” said the wizard strictly. “You do realize you just disregarded many wizarding traditions older than probably this school itself.”

A part of Harry, his eleven year old self that was still slightly terrified of Snape, wanted to shrink into something really tiny, however a different part, the one that was just a minute ago thinking about _Severus Snape_ in a quite inappropriate way, made him lift his chin and keep staring into the endless black eyes. He was after all on Gryffindor territory; his courage must not desert him now.

“I am sure Draco mentioned that he should not have met his arranged wife without the parents’ presence for many reasons, some of them surely obvious even to you.”

Harry kept quiet. It wasn’t obvious at all to him why Astoria and the blond couldn't meet before the wedding without adult supervision but he wasn’t going to let the snarky Headmaster know that.

“Draco told me about your plan. You advised my godson to take matters into his own hands and direct the marriage contract so that it would be beneficial for both of them as well, not just the families.” The smooth, deep voice remained severe.

Harry decided it was time to say something. He didn't want to look like an utter fool, after all. “Yes, I did. And I would do it again. Draco has been dragged through enough madness for the sake of the Malfoy name. It was time he stood up for himself. I understand this has to happen but that doesn’t mean it has to be miserable for either of them. I only want to help him,” argued the young man fervently.

The expression on the older wizard’s face softened. “Thank you, Mr. Potter.”

“What?” Blurted Harry astonished.

Snape huffed but the Gryffindor would swear it sounded like a short laughter. “You may not realize this however Draco is very important to me. As you said, he was dragged through enough madness already; hence I wish to reduce the force of the next madness that is to come. It was one thing, letting Draco be recruited into Voldemort’s rank- that was for survival. But watching, my godson being forced to marry a chit just so the Malfoy name could regain its former glory... I do not approve of that.”

“But you can’t stop it. Because you are not blood, right? That’s what Draco said.”

“That is true. Also it would have never occurred to me to suggest something like this. You see, _I_ have a certain _respect_ towards traditions. Something _you_ lacked your whole life.” The Headmaster sounded almost teasing. The corners of the thin lips were curving slightly upwards and that made Harry a bit more easygoing.

“I assure you Headmaster, I have respect towards many things,” smiled the young man.

“And say Mr. Potter, how can one earn this respect of yours?”

“Oh, surely you know, Professor Snape. You earned it quite a few times already.”

The tall wizard’s black eyes widened and Harry felt a sudden rush of warmness, which he outright denied to call desire, though it was definitely close to it. They stared at each other in silence for a few seconds.

“I truly appreciate what you are doing for Draco, Potter. But be warned, ‘Cissa will hear about this and she will not be happy. I am, however, so all I can say is, a few more brilliant ideas like this and Draco’s future may not be as mad as it seems now.”

“Did you just prai-“

“Goodbye, Mr. Potter,” smirked the professor as he turned away.

The young Gryffindor just watched his Headmaster stroll towards the exit. Ron stopped next to him and asked in a soft voice.

“What was that all about?”

Snape hopped out of the portray hole, Harry’s gaze still lingered on his body. “I think I was just praised by none other than Severus Snape.”

Ron gaped at the back of the portrait where the tall man disappeared. “Blimey, Harry, are you sure that was Snape?”

Harry laughed. “Nope. Not really.”

(◡‿◡✿) *******************(✿◡‿◡)

The list in Harry’s hand was pretty short. His and Ginny’s names were on top, below them were Neville, two girls from sixth year, a girl and two boys from fourth year, one first year boy and that was all. Ron and Hermione’s names were scratched out with red ink.

He knocked on the door to McGonagall’s office and walked in when it opened to him.

“Hullo, Professor. The list,” reached Harry the piece of parchment towards the woman.

“Oh, thank you, Harry. Sit.” Her eyes wandered down on the page, then she sniffed quietly. “Less and less children every year,” murmured the professor.

“You can’t really blame them,” said Harry. “Hermione says, it’s a surprise so many of them came back to school at all.”

Minerva looked at him, put down the paper to the corner of her desk and let out mirthless laughter. If anything, it sounded pitying.

“I take it you did not hear the rumours then?” Inquired the Transfiguration Professor.

“No,” answered Harry slowly. “What rumours?”

“Then it seems Kingsley is doing his job better than his predecessors.”

“What is Kingsley doing exactly, Professor?”

“Minerva, Harry,” she reminded him softly. “The Minister for Magic has issued a new Educational Decree over this summer. All students under the age of seventeen must attend school this year, whether they wish to work on their NEWTs or not.”

“What? But that is... that is what Tom did, too!” Harry gaped. He never imagined Kingsley would become such a bad minister.

“No, Harry. Lord... khm... Voldemort forced _Pure and Half-Bloods_ to return to _Hogwarts_ , so he can control them. Kingsley’s new decree ensures that all children who are not of age yet continue their schooling may it be at Hogwarts or at any other school.”

Harry frowned. “Any school?”

“Yes, any. Including-“

“Muggle schools,” finished Harry surprised. “But... why? I mean... the war is over. They aren't in danger anymore.”

“You know that, Harry and so do I.  But you forget something important.”

The Gryffindor looked into the green eyes, wondering what he missed this time. Then it hit him and the realization made him cringe inside.

“Oh, bloody hell.” He grunted. “Snape? They are worried about Snape? But I spent all summer convincing everyone to accept that he fought for us. And they were okay with it, so what now? Bloody unbelievable,” added the young hero with a sigh.

“You are the reason why we have eighty percent of our students back, Harry. Parents let their children come back to school because you are here and they believe you would stop Severus if he attempted to... bring back last year’s educational level. Do not forget what had happened here; children under our care were tortured and we had to let it happen. Would _you_ allow your child back to a place like this?”

“Yes! Yes, I would!” Shouted Harry without hesitation. “I would feel perfectly okay if I knew Severus Snape was taking care of my children. This is ridiculous, prof- Minerva, we have to do something.”

The Head of Gryffindor house watched him with an intent gaze. “Is that true, Harry? You honestly would?”

“Yes. Do you know how many times he has saved my life? I don't, because _I lost_ _count_. And he hated me to my last hairbreadth. So yeah, if I had children and he felt only neutrality towards them I would be perfectly fine leaving them here. With Voldemort dead, no harm would come to them.”

“That is very nice of you to say, Harry,” said a gentle voice from behind him. “Please make sure you let Severus know, too. He would be... well not delighted for sure but at least pleased, I would think.”

“Dumbledore!” Harry cried, jumping from his seat. He did not yet notice the portrait hanging on the wall.

“Yes, my boy,” the long bearded painting smiled. “Minerva, Severus would like to have a word with you about your fireplace.”

“Tell him to come down, Harry was on his way already.”

“Oh right, yes, I was,” said the boy stepping to the door. “Good night, Minerva, Professor Dumbledore.”

“Good night, Harry,” said the previous Headmaster, edging out of the painting with his blue eyes twinkling as usual.

The Gryffindor walked quietly back towards his dormitory, fuming slightly as he thought about what he just heard. He understood, of course that last year had been horrid for the students and their parents as well, but the fact that people still didn't completely trust Snape irritated him for some reason. What could he do to help the Headmaster stay where he belonged and be not hated for it? What could change the public’s opinion? He chose not to contemplate on _why_ exactly he wanted to help. He decided it was easiest to say because the sneaky spy deserved it.

All of a sudden, he found himself face to face with said sneaky spy as he turned around a corner.

“Mr. Potter, what on earth are you doing out of your dormitory this late?”

“I had to give the list of students spending Christmas here to Professor McGonagall, sir. We had a chat,” said the boy then took a deep breath. He didn't believe it but he was actually taking Dumbledore’s advice. “Sir, I just wanted to say... that I think it is quite unfair that some people still don't appreciate your services during the past years.” The Headmaster frowned and Harry had a certain weird sensation about the man. Something was off, he just didn't know what. “And that I think you ran this school as good as possible. And that I trust you. Dumbledore thought I should tell you this.” As the professor stared at him the black haired boy’s voice faded more and more. By the end of his speech it turned into mumbling.

“And what, Mr. Potter, makes you think I care about that?” Drawled the former spy.

Harry gulped. “I don't know, sir. I’m- I’m sorry, sir. I’m just going to leave now.” Harry attempted to walk past the tall, black clad man, but strong fingers gripped his arm and rendered him motionless. The warmness in the pit of his stomach was back with full force, damn it.

“I do... appreciate your words, Mr. Potter,” uttered the Slytherin softly. Bright green eyes snapped at the professor’s features trying to catch a sneer on the well known face but there wasn’t one. Snape seemed honest. Harry stepped closer. Their arms were still linked.

“I mean it, Professor Snape. You are perfect for this school and you deserve to be respected. I will do my best to prove that people can and should trust you.”

Black eyes, endless like a tunnel, observed him for a few seconds. “What do you have in mind, Potter?”

Almost instinctively, Harry’s gaze shifted downwards, from onyx eyes to thin, pink lips, reflecting what he truly had in mind. Scared from his own thoughts, he couldn't help but bite his lower lip not to act on his current feelings.

“Nothing yet,” the Savour of The Wizarding World compelled himself to say, forcing his eyes back up. “Shit,” he groaned, when he noticed the widened eyes and the realization clear on Snape’s face. That was all he could say before the Headmaster leaned forward and kissed him surprisingly softly.

 _Bloody hell_ , thought the Chosen One as the warm tickling in his belly turned into a fiery ball of lust and desire. He pressed closer, his free hand grasping into black robes. He completely disregarded his mind screaming in alarm, choosing to concentrate all his senses to the soft lips that were on his mouth and the wide chest that rose beneath his shaking hand.

Harry kissed back. Hesitantly at first, though at that moment reacting to Snape’s kiss seemed like the only thing he wanted to do for ages. His lips moved against the Headmaster’s tentatively and softly. The professor was surprised, the young man could tell, because the fingers around his arm tightened even more. His free hand shifted from the older wizard’s chest to his neck, his thumb caressing the sharp, lightly stubbly jaw. The Headmaster gasped. Harry pushed his tongue inside the other man’s mouth experimentally.

Snape jerked away with a swift move. He drew his thumb over his lower lip and smirked. “Well isn’t that interesting, Potter.”

Harry did the only thing he could think of. He ran away. Fast.


	6. The Snakes

Harry Potter had never been labelled as a coward, however the next morning he certainly felt like one. Coward did not even begin to describe what he felt, actually. It was more than cowardice, it was outright fear. He was scared shitless. He had spent the last night torn between giddily smiling and being close to actual tears of frustration. Did he really kiss Snape? Severus Snape? Twice his age, professor, former double agent and spy, hateful, mocking, sneering Severus Snape? And, what was more important, did he really enjoy it?

Upon studying his feelings, the Gryffindor Golden Boy realized that fucking hell, he _did_ enjoy it, probably more than he should have.

What a bloody twist. How was that even possible? Was Snape really into men or was this just a joke? The Saviour of the Wizarding World feared that was the case and the idea left him sleepless all night. It was really rather unfair, if one thought about it (and Harry did, for long hours) because really, Severus Snape, Headmaster of Hogwarts should not be allowed to go around school, kissing young men.

The Chosen One knew he ought to speak with the professor. It was either that or avoiding him for the rest of term and probably life as well. This was all but impossible given how many Ministry celebrations, balls and commemorations were they required to attend just this year.

Hence his sudden embracing of his inner cowardice, because how in bloody hell was he suppose to bring a topic like this up and what was he supposed to say? One did not simply go to Severus Snape to talk about a kiss, now did they? One needed strategy. One needed sharpness. One needed cunning.

None of which Harry now felt he even remotely possessed. According to said man, he was just an impertinent, brash dunderhead. Maybe that was how he should act. Impertinently and brashly, just grabbing Snape and dragging him into a classroom and kissing him again; kissing him with fervour and-

“Oy, mate, what are you still doing in here?” Ron walked into their dormitory, two slices of toast in his hand.

The black haired young man turned scarlet, damning his wayward thoughts. He sat up as the youngest Weasley boy pulled apart the curtains of his bed and handed him the two slices of bread.

“We’re going to be late for Potions.”

“I kissed Snape.”

There was a momentary silence, then Ron just said, “Sorry what?”

“I said I kissed Snape. Well... actually, he kissed me. I mean,” jabbered Harry, “Snape. Snape kissed me. Uhm... my point is... we kissed. Snape and I, you see.”

His best friend, to his credit, didn't faint, how Harry had imagined this conversation would go. Nor did he puke, or get a greenish colour in the face. Ron just stood there, one hand still held out (though the Chosen One was holding onto the toasts now), his gob hanging wide open, most likely forgetting even how to breathe.

Harry bit into his breakfast, the morsel of bread almost ending up in his lungs when he started choking on it as Ron suddenly roared up with laughter.

The black haired young man, pouting and still coughing a bit, placed the toasts on his nightstand then looked reproachfully at the other wizard.

“Well thanks, mate. I’m glad one of us is seeing the funny side of this.”

Attempting to stifle his laughter but failing miserably at it, Ron snorted, “How can you _not_ see the funny side though?”

“Oh shut up, Ron. It’s not funny, okay?”

“Wait... but what kind of kiss was it? Just a bit of nip on the cheeks or did you go all French on him?”

When Harry didn't answer, the redhead started sniggering again. “Blimey Harry, that’s just... insane. Why would you do anything like that?” Chortled the young man.

“I didn't do anything!” Cried Harry defensively. “I just stood there-“

“The embodiment of innocence, were you?”

“-and suddenly he was in front of me and just too close and then he kissed me... and fuck I did it, okay, I kissed back and, Ron... my whole world was on fire.” Harry shook his head and looked up at his best friend pleadingly. “Please tell me I’m sick... that it’s just some curse or something.”

“Well, it could be... that fire... it wasn’t there before right? It came with the kiss?”

“Yes,” nodded Harry hopefully.

“And, did you feel dizziness?”

“Yes, absolutely.”

“Trembling limbs? Especially legs?”

“Oh yes, that too.”

“And, and that funny feeling in your stomach after it. Like a slump. As if that fire during the kiss had eaten up all of your insides and you know the only thing that could fill it up is another kiss?”

“Yes, definitely! Merlin I want to kiss him again so badly.” Harry sighed. This had to be it. It had to be a curse. It was Malfoy, he knew it. That was the only explanation. “What it is? A curse, right? Or a hex?”

“Well, Harry I don't want to disappoint you, but that’s kinda how I felt when I kissed Hermione the first time,” grinned Ron.

“What?” Shrieked Harry.

“You heard me, mate. It’s no curse. Just bloody you, falling for the git.” Ron rubbed his hands together. “And it’s bloody brilliant.”

“It is?” Asked the black haired Gryffindor, his tone close to hopeful again. Support from his friends would b-

“Oh yeah, ’Mione owns me five galleons. I told her it wasn’t Malfoy,” chuckled the young wizard.

Harry gaped at his friend who meanwhile walked to the door and opened it, still smiling smugly.

“Ron, wait! That’s all you have to say?”

Ron seemed to consider it for a few more seconds then shrugged, “Yeah... That’s all.”

(◡‿◡✿) ******************* (✿◡‿◡)

Potions was a disaster and the Gryffindor Golden Boy was glad to be out of the classroom. It didn't help, that Ron and Hermione too were constantly giggling behind his back. He knew the situation needed to be handled, but his only idea on the _how to bring up a topic like this_ subject remained the ‘grab him, drag him, kiss him’ version, which Harry assumed wasn’t an acceptable one. Even though he relived it many times in his head. Over and over again. Especially the last part of the plan. Hence the disastrous Potions class.

The young man couldn't believe his eyes when in the exact same corridor they had been making out last night he ran into Snape again. Black robes swished in front of him as the Headmaster came closer. The problem was that he still only had the “grab him, drag him, kiss him’ plan in mind, so he either came up with something fast or used that with such smoothness, his professor would find it flawless and actually let himself be grabbed, dragged and kissed. Mostly the last one.

By the time Harry arrived to this point in his thought, the other wizard arrived right next to him. So Harry grabbed. He caught a wrist between his fingers and unfalteringly murmured, “Come with me,” he even dragged said wrist with himself as he turned towards the nearest empty classroom.

The setback occurred when the rest of the man did not follow the Gryffindor anywhere. With a jerk, said man tried to get free before he demanded, “Let me go, Potter.”

Harry came to a halt as well, not letting go of the wrist he seemed to be enjoying to touch. He wanted to say it was his Gryffindor courage that reared up inside him and made him speak in the end, but honestly, it was just his sexual frustration. “We have to talk.”

“Why are you touching me, Potter?”

At this point, Harry had to accept that his plan had been crushed so badly like a Quidditch player not coming out of the Wronski Faint in time.

“Snape, we need to talk,” he groaned.

_“_ _Mister_ Potter, you may be friendly with your Head of House but I am not like her, I’m sure you know that. I insist you address me as Headmaster, Professor or sir, and that you cease touching me _this instant_.”

A part of the Gryffindor – that sexually frustrated part who really wanted to be in that empty classroom and doing phase three of that plan that did not even play anymore – almost said that if kissing didn't count as bloody friendly then he didn't know what the hell did. But instead, he toned it down to, “That’s not what you implied last night.”

“Potter, just because I voiced my appreciation for your help concerning Draco, it does not mean-“

“No, _Professor_ , after that,” interrupted Harry.

“We did not meet after that talk,” said the Headmaster and Harry almost did let him go in surprise. But just almost.

“So we’re going to pretend nothing happened?” Asked the young man frowning at his professor.

The long haired wizard raised an eyebrow and spat, “I’m not _pretending,_ Potter. Nothing had happened as I did not see you last night. I was in my office, working; an act I should be doing right now as well.”

Something was very, _very_ weird and Harry did not like the feeling.

“But last night... here in this very corridor... you were... you were...” stammered the young man.

The Headmaster stared at him for a few second before he drawled, “Fortunately for you I was not anywhere near this corridor, Potter.” The Professor’s tone was close to scornful and it did not elude Harry that he kept tugging his arm, trying to get free. “If I had been, I would have deducted many points from your house, something Gryffindor surely can't afford nowadays. Being out after curfew is still not allowed and your continuous disregard towards the rules will not be tolerated while I am the Headmaster. You received one warning, Mr. Potter, and you will not be given another one.”

“Hello Potter, Severus.” Draco walked past them smirking. A horrible suspicion started rising from the pit of Harry’s stomach. _Horrible_ barely covered the dreadful sensation.

The blond drew his thumb over his lower lip; a motion way too familiar to Harry. The Chosen One had seen this yesterday, right here on this very corridor. And it hit the young man that moment, hit him really, really hard right in the middle of his chest. And it was much worse than he could have ever imagine.

The professor was telling the truth. Harry didn't kiss _Snape_ last night. Or at least, not the _real_ Snape.

His bright green eyes went wide and the Saviour of the Wizarding World paled instantly. “It can’t be.” He murmured desperately.

“Had a nice evening, Potter?” Smiled Draco evilly.

The Gryffindor stuck out his tongue and started rubbing it with the back of his hand, suddenly sickened. Snape let out a disgruntled noise as well but the young man’s hand gripped the Headmaster even more firmly. A petulant voice in Harry’s head mumbled, “But it was _Snape_.”

“I declare war, Malfoy! _War_!” The ebony haired man screamed after the infuriating blond, who turned around grinning. “This isn’t over yet! Do you hear me, you bloody fucker!”

“Oh, I heard you alright, Potter,” smirked Malfoy. “This is far from over!”

Panting and angry, murmuring insults under his breath, The Boy Who Lived stared at Malfoy’s back, oblivious to the other man, whose hand he was still holding in a death grip.

“Potter,” said Snape softly and Harry snapped his head at him. The Headmaster was glaring at him with both eyebrows raised high.

“Yes?” A flicker of hope shimmered inside him regarding last night. Maybe, maybe it wasn’t Draco after all.

Then Snape cried, “ _Let. Me. Go_. You bloody imbecile!” and all hope was gone. The Headmaster tore his arms from Harry’s grip. “And ten points from Gryffindor for using such language in front of me.”

Snape turned around, robes billowing and marched away. Disappointed and despairing, Harry just mumbled, “Fucking hell...”

“Make it twenty, then, Potter.” Snape shouted not even turning back.

(◡‿◡✿) ******************* (✿◡‿◡)

The next morning, Draco woke up with seven venomous snakes in his bed. Ever since being daily threatened with Nagini, his adoration for the Slytherin mascot turned into revulsion and horror. Potter was of course perfectly aware of his recently progressed Ophidiophobia, hence Malfoy wasn’t really all that surprised when he woke from his peaceful slumber to warm, scaled reptiles slithering on his barely covered body. No, he wasn’t surprised. _Terrified_ yes, but not surprised.

His roommates were all the more astonished though to wake up to Draco’s loud, girlish screams. 


	7. The Clothes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> IT'S DECEMBER! IT'S CHRISTMAS MONTH! I love Christmas and next year I won't be able to celebrate it with my family so I want this Christmas to be amazing. I'm so in the Christmas mood already. I'm ready, ah yeah baby bring it on. Give me the lights, all the annoying music, the gift shopping, and the snow yes gimme the snow all the snow! And all the cakes and goodies that come with Christmas. that too. i want it all. i'm ready!
> 
> So what about you? Do you guys love Christmas? Are you already listening to the jazzy Christmas songs like me? Or do you prefer to stay away from this mess as far as possible? Do I have anyone here not celebrating Christmas at all? Please let me know in a comment, i'm really curious :)

“Oy, you bastard, wait up!” Shouted the Malfoy heir at Harry who simply quickened his steps.

Malfoy caught up anyway. “I’m meeting with Astoria this afternoon and if she doesn’t find me charming that will be all be your fault because you disturbed my sleep. Just so you know,” drawled the blond boy.

The Gryffindor bawled at Draco in a quite animalistic way. “I couldn't care less, Malfoy!”

“Oh come now, Potter,” laughed the Slytherin.

“Fuck you Malfoy. What you did that was... That was _cruel_.”

Draco sniggered and lowered his voice as he told the other, “Hey, I didn't want to kiss you Potter, I just... went with it, when the moment presented itself.”

“You fucking kissed me, Malfoy!” The Chosen One hissed, marching into an empty classroom so they couldn't be overheard.

“Who cares about that, Potter!” Draco grinned smugly. “But why the hell did you kiss back when you thought it was Severus? That's what I want to know!”

The green eyed wizard turned his gaze to the ground and started scratching the desk he hopped on, unable to look up at his friend.

“Holy shit, Potter, you have a thing for my godfather? For Severus fucking Snape? That is just priceless, Potter. _Holy shit_ , that is brilliant.”

“How the hell did you even manage to get some Polyjuice?”

“Astoria. Clever little witch, that one. She nicked it for me during her Potions class. We both know how easy it is to distract Slughorn.” Sniggered the blond then he added a bit more seriously, “And don't think, you can steer away the topic so sneakily. I demand an answer, Potter.”

“To what?” Harry snapped.

“Don’t play games with me, Scarface. Do you or do you not have sentimental feelings for Severus?”

“I don't have feelings for him, Malfoy.”

“Now don't tell me, you just want him for his looks. I won’t eat that crap.”

“I don't know, okay?!” Cried the Gryffindor, jumping off from the desk.

“You don't know what exactly?” asked Draco quietly.

Green eyes met grey and the black haired wizard broke out in angry words, “I don't know what kind of feelings I have for him, I don't know why I want him, I don't know anything, you arse! Now, would you leave me alone?!”

Harry missed the smug smirk that crossed the blonde’s thin lips and by the time he looked up the other turned his back on him. “As you wish, Potter. But we’re not done yet.”

(◡‿◡✿) ******************* (✿◡‿◡)

By the time the Gryffindor Golden Boy and the Slytherin Prince stepped out of the classroom, Harry had forgotten that he was on his way to the Great Hall. Instead he turned left just because Draco turned right and he was not going to walk with the other young man as that meant talking and he wasn’t ready for more of that. After the second corner however, a familiar deep baritone made him spin on his heels as quickly as possible.

To avoid the Headmaster he rushed through one of his shortcuts. As he ran down the stairs, the Bloody Baron hovered across the wall, stopped in the middle of the staircase then he rattled after Harry, when the young man jumped through him, rather feeling as if someone had dumped a bucket of ice cold water on him than face Snape.

He burst out from behind the carpet on the wall and promptly ran into Luna, almost knocking her over. The Chosen One grabbed the dreamy girl before they both fell over.

“Sorry, Luna,” apologized the young wizard.

“It’s fine, Harry,” she smiled. “Why are you in such a hurry?”

Harry motioned towards the general direction of the Grounds and suggested a walk. The witch, who also had a free period after lunch, agreed.

“You know Harry, you seem more frustrated now then when You Know Who was still alive,” Luna commented as they strolled around the frozen Lake.

Harry watched the grey skies and the white mountains far away for a few seconds or perhaps a little longer because Luna spoke again.

“You don't need to tell me why, if you don't want to. I just think you should relax a bit now, that’s all.”

The Saviour took a deep breath and decided the Ravenclaw was trustworthy enough so he could pour his heart out to her. He told her everything about his recent discoveries concerning their Headmaster, how the Wizarding World perceived the older wizard and even his own feelings towards the Professor. He left out only the kiss with Malfoy and that tiny detail that said feelings might even be romantic.

By the time the black haired wizard finished talking, his voice became slightly croaked and they reached a small, snowy clearing in the Forbidden Forest. They weren’t too deep, they could still see the castle’s turrets over the huge trees.

When the blond witch looked at Harry with those big silvery grey eyes the Gryffindor had a weird sensation that she still somehow realized his presumed sentimental feelings for a certain ex-Death Eater regardless how hard Harry had tried to hide them.

“You always said you don't have anything special in you, you remember Harry?” She asked quietly.

“Because I don't,” answered the young man curtly.

Twigs broke behind the nearest bushes and leaves rattled loudly. The students stepped closer together and drew their wands but it was pointless. Buckbeak stepped out from the green, stretching his great wings as he walked towards them.

“Buckbeak,” Harry sighed relieved. “You scared us.”

They both bowed to the hippogriff and he bowed back. Luna stepped closer to him and started scratching him under his chin. She must have found a sweet spot because the bird like eyes closed in pleasure and the beast tweeted softly.

“It might not be considered a superpower by others, by I think it is something special,” Luna carried on their conversation, still petting the animal. “You see the best in people, Harry.”

“How is that special?”

“You allow the other person to show you who they really are and you are ready to accept them even if they are considered a bit...” Luna smiled brightly at him over Buckbeak’s wide back. “Weird.”

“You’re not weird, Luna,” The Gryffindor stated. Luna wasn’t weird. She was just... Luna.

“You’re a nice person, Harry,” smiled the girl again and Harry blushed slightly. “I think you feel confused about Professor Snape because you are only now starting to see him for who he really is. He’s just a man, a bit weird, sometimes mean but he cares a lot about you, Harry. So don’t worry, things have a way to work out in the end.”

The bells rang at the school, warning them that their free period was over. Buckbeak squawked then pecked Harry gently on the arm and strolled happily back into the depth of the forest. The students turned around as well and walked back towards the castle. They stepped out of the Forest not far from Hagrid’s Hut and the green eyed young man spotted the Headmaster right away.

He was coming out from the half giant’s home, nodding one last time at the gigantic man, who waved his bin-lid sized hand as goodbye. Luna and Harry followed the Professor back to the school leaving ample distance between them until a big brown owl, which was carrying a bright yellow envelope, landed on Snape’s shoulder. The spy stopped and took the letter, and the bird flew away. Harry watched as he opened it, not even waiting to get back to his office which offered some privacy.

The expressions on Snape’s face changed quickly as he read the yellow parchment. Indifference changed into spite that melted into hurt which faded into anger. Long fingers crumpled the letter then the Headmaster continued to march towards the castle.

“He’s a sad man,” said Luna, her eyes on the black figure, who was getting further and further.

“What do you mean?” Asked Harry watching the professor, too.

“Well I wasn’t here for long last year but... he always seemed so lonely to me. You know Harry, I think we survived the war because we had each other. Here in the school, I had Neville and the others, after that, I had Mr. Ollivander with me then Fleur and Bill and finally Dad, and... it wasn’t easy, but it would have been worse alone.”

“But Snape...”

“He couldn't help the professors or us, and he didn't want to help the Death Eaters. You don't know how it was here Harry; the Carrows, the Crucios and everything... And I’m not saying it wasn’t as bad for you. But at least we could turn to each other, and you had Hermione and Ronald. We took care of each other. The Headmaster didn't have anyone to turn to. It was just him, all alone, his colleagues thinking the worst of him. I know how that bad kind of loneliness feels because for many years I didn't have friends either. Now, I do and it’s good to have someone to turn to. The world seems so much darker when you are alone, Harry.”

The Gryffindor snapped his head at his friend, who smiled faintly at him.

“Luna, you always give the best advice.” Harry grinned as a plan formed in his mind.

“Thank you, Harry.”

(◡‿◡✿) ******************* (✿◡‿◡)

The seventh and eighth year Gryffindor-Slytherin Transfiguration class was about to begin and no matter how friendly Minerva was when it was just the two of them, Harry wasn’t willing to risk being late for _her_ class.

He hurried his steps as he turned the corner. Many other students were around him, some dashing to class some just strolling seemingly carefree. Among the river of black cloaks, there was one, Harry spotted right away.

Headmaster Snape rushed through the young wizards and witches, his expression telling Harry that the man wanted nothing more than to just spell all his students away so he could march on the corridor without dealing with obstacles.

“Hello, Professor Snape,” greeted Harry brightly the older wizard.

Black eyes swept over his body, from feet to the top of his head then the intense stare came to a halt on his face. However, before the Slytherin could say a word something quite embarrassing happened.

Harry’s clothes vanished. Not a single piece of clothing article remained on the Gryffindor Golden Boy.

After the spell hit, the naked young man felt the sudden rush of cold air on his skin but he didn't understand the sensation the first second he had felt it. Snape’s eyes rushed over his body once more, from top to bottom and Harry only understood the situation when he saw his professor profoundly _blush_. The Saviour of the Wizarding World instinctively tried to cover himself right away, but Snape was faster.

The Headmaster grabbed the young wizard’s bare shoulder and jerked him to his own body covering his student with his wide cloak immediately, before the Gryffindor’s schoolmates could see him in his current situation.

Harry wasn’t happy about that. With his feelings already confused, it wasn’t helpful to be pressed firmly to his crush while being utterly naked. It was the exact opposite of helpful actually, as his teenage body almost instantly reacted to the other person’s warmness and, in general, intimate closeness.

He was carefully steered behind a tapestry, where it finally downed on him that his professor just saved him from lifelong mocking and ridicule. Unbelievably, it seemed no one had noticed him disappearing behind the wall in the arms of Hogwarts’ Headmaster. Or so he thought.

The Gryffindor risked a glance at said saviour. The glance turned into staring as he didn't believe his eyes. Snape was almost shaking from repressed laughter, the edges of his thin lips curving, while being pressed into a thin line so that he wouldn’t give in to the temptation.

“Yeah, sure, go on, laugh at me, sir!” Cried Harry in outrage, however he, too, started to feel the hilarity in the situation now that he was in relative safety.

“I apologize, Mr. Potter, but your earlier display had been quite... remarkable,” sniggered the older wizard as he shrugged off his cloak. “May I ask, what was the _purpose_ of it?”

The Chosen One first wrapped the fabric around his slim body then looked indignantly up his professor. “It wasn’t me! Your imbecile godson cast the spell, I’m sure of it!”

“Draco?” Asked the Headmaster, and then smirked slightly. “Well that explains the spell.”

“What do you mean?” The young wizard sat on the stairs, burying himself into the cloak as if it was a blanket. He tried to concentrate on the conversation rather than how nice the black fabric smelled. Not to mention how sensually it felt as it touched some places.

“How should I say Mr. Potter? Such spells... aren't generally known by the... innocents.”

“Oh,” mumbled Harry confused than slowly he comprehended the words. “Oooh. So this spell isn’t to humiliate people.”

“No, I’m afraid not.” Snape was now outright smiling. In any other situation Harry would have found that probably somehow charming. Now he found it simply arousing. “Its purpose was originally for something more...”

“Intimate?”

“Quite right, Mr. Potter. And I don't know what kind of game you two are playing, and quite frankly I don't even care, but I suggest you stop it before Draco tries out the even more... intimate spells on you.”

“What can be even more intimate than this?” Asked the Gryffindor true to his self and talking before thinking. Snape raised an eyebrow and Harry held up a hand quickly. “No, don't answer that.” He felt himself turn into a deeper shade of scarlet. Some of his body parts really didn't need to hear about lubricating spells and such from the Headmaster right now; however the topic was worth some library time one night.

“Now the question is, what do you intend to do about this rather exceptional situation?” Asked the former spy and Harry could swear his tone dropped an octave.

A scenario appeared in the green eyed wizard’s currently rather empty mind, in which he let the thin, black cloak shift off his body and he knelt in front of Snape utterly naked.

“I don't know, Professor Snape. What do you suggest?” Asked the young man tentatively. He highly doubted the Headmaster had the same ideas as he had.

“I suggest you give me back my cloak. What you do after that does not concern me.”

“How can you say that, when I’m completely naked!” Cried the young wizard.

“And that concerns my person how exactly?” Snape smirked slyly. “The corridors should be empty by now, Mr. Potter.”

Harry glared at the Headmaster then stood up fast. One side of the cloak slid off his shoulder but the Saviour barely noticed it. “You wouldn’t!

The tall man stepped closer and adjusted the silky fabric to cover all of the bare skin again. Harry felt himself shudder as warm fingers rushed over his bare arm and collarbone.

“There was a time, I would have,” smiled the older wizard before he sighed deeply and walked to the tapestry. “I’ll let Minerva know about your situation. You have fifteen minutes to get dressed,” said the Headmaster then he was gone.

Harry walked into the Transfiguration classroom fully clothed fifteen minutes later. He was rather surprised to hear wolf whistling greet him. He sat down between Malfoy and Ron, both grinning at him smugly.

“What?” Harry asked from the Gryffindor. He knew perfectly well why the Slytherin Prince was in a good mood.

“This is getting better and better, mate. People say you jumped Snape utterly naked, who dragged you somewhere private. You’re late for class and suddenly he shows up saying something to McGonagall that made even the old cat red as the Gryffindor flag. And now here you are, looking like you just climbed off the sheets.”

“What!” Hissed Harry so that McGonagall wouldn’t hear him. “I was _running not f... you know_!”

“Whatever, mate,” shrugged the redhead. “Just keep it up. I’ve never seen Snape in such a good mood.”

The Chosen One slowly looked at the Slytherin next to him, while snarling darkly. “I’ll kill you.”

“Whatever you come up with, it was still worth it, Potter,” said the blond and to Harry’s surprise he sounded rather serious. “I haven’t seen Severus smiling like that in the last four years.”


	8. The Age

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A few of you asked for Sev's point of view, and I wish I could give it you, but it won't happen here in this fic. I sort of want this to be like the books, only Harry's pov (Draco's pov only happens when it's a prank, but I try to keep it short) and I want you only slowly finding out what's going on with Sev. But. I could never resist being asked to write something Severus related, so I was wondering, would you be interested, if I wrote this story from Sev POV too?

"Harry Fucking Potter!" A grumpy voice cried after the Gryffindor Golden Boy, who stopped in the middle of the corridor surprised and turned around.

"Oh. It's you," smirked the young wizard. "I didn't recognize your voice." He said smugly.

The raspy, trembling voice belonged to an old man, who walked slowly towards Harry. His expression was furious though it was hard to tell as his face was covered in deep wrinkles and long white beard. There wasn't any hair on the top of his head however. The bold spot was covered with brown moles. The old wizard's ears and nose were longer then yesterday and he'd even become shorter in height, hence his school uniform seemed slightly baggy. He shuffled closer to the young Gryffindor, one hand on his waist as if every move had hurt him.

Harry smiled. He hoped it did hurt him.

"Take it back! Make me young again!" The old man ordered. The authority was gone from his voice which sounded dry now.

"I don't know, I think, this suits you pretty well," smirked the black haired wizard.

"You don't know how it is! This is horrible! I'm old, Potter!  _Old_! And crinkly! And everything hurts!"

"What is going on here?" Asked Headmaster Snape, walking towards them. The old man spun around but his shaky, weak legs didn't obey the order so he ended up staggering. He grabbed into the Headmaster before he fell onto the ground.

Other students, who had previously stopped and watched the episode excitedly, now scurried towards the Great Hall. The Entrance Hall emptied fast and soon it was just Harry, Snape and the old man there. The Saviour of the Wizarding World clutched his bag closer to him. Black robes were in there, which he intended to give back to its owner soon; but just not yet.

"Abraxas?" Asked the Headmaster confused, given said man had been deceased for some years now.

"I AM DRACO!" Shouted the old man, then coughed heavily.

"Draco? Oh. You look a lot like your grandfather." The former spy remarked and Harry was glad to discover something close to glee in his tone.

The Malfoy heir raised a shaking hand and pointed a long, gnarled finger at the innocently standing Gryffindor.

"I will murder you, Potter."

"Am I to understand that this was your payback for your little trick yesterday?"

Draco glared at Potter; his white, bushy eyebrows made it seem a bit more malicious. That was all the professor needed to know that he was on the right track.

"Well in that case," sighed Severus and pealed the long, bony fingers from his arm. "Make sure you arrive to class in time. We do not accept old age as an excuse for tardiness."

(◡‿◡✿) ******************* (✿◡‿◡)

By the time, the afternoon classes started, the word had spread about Draco Malfoy's sudden aging. Teachers now didn't ask the old man who he was, nor did kind students offer him help to find his grandchildren. Everyone got used to the old, bearded man, except the old bearded man.

Draco himself had been relentlessly grumping wherever he went. He only stopped complaining when at least every hour he could smack Harry's calf with his walking stick, which was a gift from his future wife. The Ravenclaw girl seemed to handle the situation much better than the Slytherin. She had been with Draco all day long, helping him up and down on the many stairs of the castle. She deflected all the playful banters with her bright and kind smile and if the teasing turned a bit more serious, she whipped out her wand and sent a vicious flock of birds at anyone who mocked her soon to be. During lunch, she made sure that the Slytherin Heir only ate food he could actually chew, and even got him some pudding from the Hufflepuff table when the strawberry cake presented an unbeatable challenge.

As the winter break was approaching the days seemed to drag by as if the castle magically slowed down time just to torture its inhabitants. Only two more days were left from their last week of the year, yet the seventh and eighth year students could not take a break. By the time they were done with their last lesson for the day and even finished all the homework due to next day the sky outside turned dark. Though the grounds around Hogwarts were covered in thick snow, the young wizards and witches simply couldn't enjoy the fun it provided thanks to their many assignments.

Harry Potter too had been curled up on his favourite chair in the Gryffindor Common Room. His lap and the ground around him were littered with unsuccessful homework attempts and empty parchments. He dropped his quill on the floor as he looked proudly at the three rolls of finished essays, which lay on the table nearby.

"I can't believe I'm finally done," sighed the young man but no one heard him. Though his best friends were sitting across the small table, one was peacefully snoozing with a half-done elf pullover in her lap and Ron was busy finishing his Transfiguration essay.

The Gryffindor Golden Boy just shook his head, smiling softly. A part of him was glad that this way he didn't have to explain where he was heading when the time of the curfew was almost upon them. With a flick of his wand, The Boy Who Lived sent the used parchments into the orange amber, which flamed up with a sudden flare. He turned on his heels, grabbed his bag and walked to the portrait.

"You shouldn't be out at this time, young man!" The Fat Lady cried after him but Harry ignored her.

As the black haired man walked on the windy, candlelit corridor, he looked out on the grounds. The snow glittered in the moonlight as if someone sprinkled countless diamonds on its untouched surface. The thought about how he had spent the last winter sneaked up on the Saviour like an assassin in the dark. Shadows on the other side of the window turned into Death Eaters lurking outside their tent, patiently waiting for The Golden Trio to make just one tiny mistake.

Undesirable Nb. 1 – that had been his status a year ago. His best friends had been hunted along with him. They had been forced to hide in cold forests, barns, barely surviving the cruel winter coldness. Their days had been filled with uncertainty, fear and worry.

He caught a glimpse of the frozen Lake in the distance and another memory surfaced just as quickly as he had thrown himself into the frozen pond in the Forest of Dean all those month ago, chasing after a small promise of hope. He still involuntarily shuddered as he thought about the cold water that had surrounded him that time. He could still feel the cut around his neck as the horcrux had tried to suffocate him. Suddenly, as if a dam had broken through, other events crawled out from the dark corners of his mind.

_Nagini as Batilda_ _–_ _the old witch_ _'_ _s worn body tearing apart..._

_Pictures he had received from Voldemort_ _–_ _pictures of his screaming victims..._

_Hermione_ _'_ _s screams and her bloody arm_ _–_ _'_ _Mudblood_ _'_ _the carved in word read..._

_Bill_ _'_ _s mangled face..._

_Fred_ _'_ _s lifeless body on the floor of the Great Hall_ _–_ _George wailing over him..._

_More and more deaths followed_ _–_ _Moody falling, Dobby bleeding_

The locket around the Saviour's neck became tighter and tighter with every picture his deranged mind showed him. He could barely breathe already but the worst was to come.

_Dumbledore tumbling over the railing_ _–_ _falling and shouting for him,_ "Potter! Potter! Harry!"

He clawed at his neck but he couldn't find the chain that strangled him close to death. A shadow moved in front of him and his hands were pulled away from his throat – Dumbledore's screams did not stop, he shouted the Gryffindor's name over and over again.

"Potter!"

"Potter! Snap out of it!"

Something was wrong with Dumbledore's voice. It was deeper, the gentle tone was gone. It was harsher, more unyielding. Stern. Commanding. "Potter! Calm down! What you see, it is in the past now!" Soothing.

The chain loosened and the falling old wizard was gone. Instead Harry saw his killer. Vicious grimace was on the pale face.

The Gryffindor fought against the grip on his wrists screaming, "Let me go!"

"Potter, calm down!" The hold only tightened on the green eyed young man's slim wrist. The more he struggled, the tighter it got. "For the love of Merlin, snap out of it!  _Harry_!"

Harry deflated like a pierced balloon. His strength left him and he staggered against the cold, ancient wall. The face in front of him, the long nose, long black hair and the endless dark eyes, finally cleared and the evil grimace was gone. Dumbledore's killer stood in front of him, looking stern but honest worry filled the black, usually empty eyes.

"Professor..." Breathed the young man, his voice shaking. "What...?"

"Panic attack. You're not the first and not the last to have it, I assure you."

Harry nodded and swallowed hard. His throat was parched. His mouth tasted metallic. When Snape finally let go of his hands, he immediately touched his neck, looking for the chain that strangled him. He didn't find it obviously, but he felt sensitive marks there.

"You scratched yourself," explained the Headmaster. "You were... clawing at your neck."

"The locket..." Harry begun and the sensation of the strangling string started to return. His voice hitched but Snape grabbed his shoulder.

"Don't go there. Don't let it take you again."

Harry took a couple of calming breathes, and pressed the back of his head to the window. Chilly gust of air swept across his sweaty face, calming him.

"Come," said the Headmaster as he turned around.

The Saviour of the Wizarding World followed his Hero in silence. His body was still shaking. Cold sweat dripped down his neck, his limbs trembled as he walked on the candlelit corridor. He risked a glance outside but the lurking evil he had seemed to see previously was gone. Only shadows of trees darkened the glimmering snow.

The Headmaster's office was cosy warm and brightly lit. The roaring fire in the hearth brought the room in an orange glow. Portraits of old headmasters and headmistresses snoozed quietly, all except Phineas Nigellus'. Harry nodded to the goat bearded man, who only screwed up his face and edged out of his painting.

Harry sat in the chair, where Draco had sat only days ago. He carded his fingers through his unruly hair and waiter for the Headmaster to speak. Snape however remained quiet as he lowered himself onto his own seat as well. The silence grew uncomfortable.

"I don't want to talk about it," said Harry finally, when he felt like the peace in the room would crush him.

"Very well," came the answer from across the desk. The professor pulled out his wand and waved with it, summoning a tray with a mug and a pitcher on it. The young man got a whiff of something sweet and heavy. With another flick of the black wand, a mug levitated in front of him.

The Chosen One took it from the air and peaked into it.

"Hot chocolate?" He asked surprised.

"Panic attacks are similar to when you encounter a Dementor. The crippling fear, your worst memories, the sudden cold."

"You seem to know a lot about panic attacks," said the Saviour quietly. He took a gulp and felt the hot chocolate fill him up with warmness. The effect was very similar to eating chocolate only this time it warmed up even his fingertips, while the heavy scent of chocolate filled his senses, calming him and making him smile.

"If you recall, I have not always been Headmaster of this School. My duties as professor covered a wide area. And as I previously mentioned, you are not the first to experience one and certainly not the last either."

The fact that there were others besides him going through this, made the young man feel slightly relieved. "Who else?"

"Many, especially after the war. Not a surprise, really..." sighed the Headmaster. After a short pause, he asked, "And say, Mister Potter, why exactly are you out this late at night?"

"Oh!" Cried the young man. He had completely forgotten about the reason why he had set off on this late journey. He placed his mug on the desk and pulled his bag onto his lap. He drew out the soft black fabric and reached it towards his professor. "I came to return this," he smiled. "Thank you, sir, for helping me out the other day."

The green eyed wizard chose wisely not to discuss the rumours that popped up around school after the incident. Snape seemed to be oblivious to them and Harry valued his life enough not to be the bearer of bad news.

As he leaned over the desk, a crumpled, yellow parchment caught his eyes. He remembered it from the time he had come out of the Dark Forest with Luna and seen the Headmaster read it. He also remembered the foul mood the man was after it, which meant it was important but bad news.

The Gryffindor Golden Boy felt he would die to read that letter. He also felt, with certainty that is, that he would be killed if he read that letter. So after one last desperate glance, he leaned back and pretended that he was not interested in any crumpled yellow letter, and most definitely not in one which was addressed to  _Headmaster S. Snape_.

Over the edge of his mug, The Chosen One risked a glance at his former Potions Master. Unreadable expression was on the lean face and Harry did not know what to do with it. It wasn't anger, hurt, it wasn't anything negative actually, which was surprising on its own, but the young man suspected that expression had more to do with curiosity than anything else. Which was disturbing, given Snape wasn't exactly curious about green eyed Saviours before.

"I should go. Thanks for the... drink," said the Gryffindor with a small smile. He finished his hot chocolate and was about to rise from his chair but Snape stopped him.

"Stay where you are," came the order and Potter froze halfway out of his chair, stooping. "I'll be right back."

"What the hell..." Harry mumbled, after Snape disappeared behind a bookcase. He slowly sat back, then poured some more chocolate to himself. It was still hot and creamy but it went sour in his mouth right away when his gaze returned to a yellow parchment on the otherwise clean desk.

He could do it, Harry thought to himself. He could open the letter and read through it quickly, before the Headmaster returned. He probably had enough time to get the gist of the content, to see what made Snape that angry. The Gryffindor's palm itched to close around the old paper.

The young wizard extended a hand towards the letter. His heartbeat was louder than ever. He looked around one last time just to make sure no one was watching him but he was alone in Snape's office.

Harry stopped suddenly, weird sense of déjà vu making his insides freeze.

He was alone in Snape's office. The last time something similar happened, he had used the occasion to breach the man's privacy and he was about to make that mistake again. Hermione was right, if Harry ever wanted to get on good terms with Severus Snape, the former spy had to trust his young student.

The Boy Who Lived decided it was time he stopped meddling in his professor's private affairs. It was a hard choice, and his hands still tingled, wanting to reach out and grab but he stopped himself.

Later on he praised himself on this clever decision, because when Snape returned only moments later, he would have been caught, had he taken the letter. But instead the compromising situation, there he was, Harry Potter peacefully drinking hot chocolate.

Embodiment of innocence, he was.

"Hm," huffed Snape. "The wonders never cease."

"I'm sorry, sir?"

The Headmaster was smiling, as he leaned against his desk, which never meant any good. Harry readied himself for anything, then realized, he actually didn't do anything wrong this time. Which was a first, most likely.

"Read it, if you must." The former spy said, then tossed the yellow parchment to the Gryffindor.

"No, I... It's yours. I can't..." stuttered the young man.

"You've been eyeing it for a while now. I even left you alone with it so you can read it and we can both pretend you didn't," Severus sighed. "Read it, Potter."

Harry looked up at his professor, suspecting a trap. It wasn't; Snape was busy studying a jar in his hand, so the Saviour of the Wizarding World slowly started unfolding the letter, then after one last glance at his professor, he read it.

Then he wished, he hadn't.

The letter arrived from the Board of Governors and now Harry understood why it made Snape that angry.

"They want to fire you?" Harry asked outraged, slamming the letter on the desk.

" _Temporary_   _leave_ , Potter," smirked Snape.

"We both know what that means," puffed the young man. "What do you want to do about it?"

"Lift your head."

"What? Sir."

The Former Potions Master opened the jar and spooned out a bit of cream with his pointing and middle finger. "I said, lift your head."

Harry's heartbeat returned to drumming right away. He might as well even blushed slightly but he wasn't sure. He did feel rather hot as Snape leaned over him and raised the unruly haired head with his thumb. Cold fingers touched the Gryffindor's neck, smearing nice smelling cream on the young man's injured skin.

"Wh-what are you doing?" Asked Potter, after clearing his throat several times.

"You scratched your neck and I will not let you out of this office wearing marks like that. One might draw the wrong conclusion."

"The wrong conclusion, yeah...," laughed Harry. "We wouldn't want that."

"No, we would not," answered Snape quietly. "They already have enough on me, I would rather not have ' _assaulting the Boy Hero_ ' added to that list." A few more strokes later, he added, "It's done. If possible, leave it up for the night." Snape instructed straightening up. Harry's first reaction was to touch the cooling cream but his wrist was caught immediately. "And don't touch it."

"Thanks, sir," nodded the young man as Snape sat back behind his desk. "So, what do you want to do with that?" he nodded towards the parchment between them.

"There is a vast difference in what I  _want_  to do and what I  _can_ , Mr. Potter," explained Severus. "You read it yourself, if I decline to leave temporarily, I shall be fired permanently."

"But why do they want you out in the first place? Everything is good here, it's all quiet. Your students are all fine, everything is back in order."

Snape watched Harry for a while then said carefully, "A bit too quiet, wouldn't you say?"

"What do you mean, sir?"

"A lot of reporters came here at the beginning of the semester. They wanted daily reports of how the school was doing, fresh information about the restoration. They wanted news. I declined."

"But why?" Asked Harry. "Everything was going okay, we finished restoring the castle in time, there was nothing to write about."

"Oh yes, indeed nothing at all. Except our own Boy Hero, who is going back to school after being hunted for a year, and oh yes, leading a war against the Darkest Wizard who ever lived. Not to mention his little team of fighters also returning for further education and let's not forget about the infamous Headmaster who let his students be tortured and turned Hogwarts into the best school for practising Dark Arts. Nothing too interesting, you are quite right, Mr. Potter."

The Gryffindor shook his head before he said, "That was last year, sir. It's over and they should know it. And about me and the others... We haven't cared about what the papers say for a long time, Professor Snape; let them write what they want. You shouldn't have gone against the Board for us."

"You do realize-"

"All due respect, sir, but I've been Undesirable Number One, I've been a lunatic, a hero, the Chosen One and many other things. They called me a liar, made me a martyr, turned me into a fugitive. I know their intensions aren't good, but right now, there's nothing they can write about. No news. I don't get headaches, I'm not in any trouble except the pranks with Draco but we can stop that any time, hell even my grades are average. Nothing remarkable happens, and if I can be honest, sir, life at Hogwarts is straight out boring nowadays."

"That is the most dangerous, Potter. If they don't have any news, they make some."

"Then give them some," Harry shrugged. "Give them something to write about. Let in the reporters, please the Board, keep your job."

"That sounds awfully easy when you put it like that."

"I'm serious, sir," replied the Gryffindor.

The Headmaster watched the determined green eyed man for a second or two, considering him. "And what do you propose? I will not let any scandalous rumours be spread. I have the other students to think about as well."

"No, not scandalous," murmured Harry, deep in his thoughts. "Christmas is coming."

"And?"

Harry laughed and leaned onto the desk. "Do you remember the Christmas Ball during the Triwizard Tournament?"

"No. Absolutely not. Out of the question."

"It would be good. Nice, big, fancy occasion to celebrate Christmas or remember those, who cannot be here. Hogwarts' Headmaster opens the gates of the school so students can celebrate with their friends and family – I can already see the headlines."

"You're out of your mind, Potter," huffed the Headmaster.

"Severus I think what Harry proposes is indeed a very good idea," spoke the portrait right above Snape.

"Albus, please go back to sleep. Or at least go back pretending you are asleep," growled the current Headmaster.

"Look, sir, Professor McGonagall told me about the new decree. Don't you think that instead of shutting ourselves away, we should open to the public and let them know nothing fishy is going on?"

The lean figure suddenly stood from his chair. "What I think, Mr. Potter, is that it's high time you return to your House as it is already past your curfew."

Hesitantly, Harry rose to his feet as well. He walked to the door slowly, thinking what else to say to convince the professor. Nothing came to mind, so he only said, "Please, sir, just consider it."

"Don't worry, Mr. Potter, I will not."

"Good night," sighed Harry, closing the door.

"Night, Mr. Potter," answered the deep voice from the other side.


	9. The Potion

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello there my lovelies! One week until Christmas! Yes, one week, because we celebrate it on the evening of 24th, you see. Are you excited? I so am! Just last night me and my sister were baking gingerbread cookies and stuff and I swear I still smell like Christmas. It's a lovely smell. I love it. Just as much, as hopefully, you will love this chapter ;) Have fun my darlings :) Oooh and good luck for exams and work and whatnot! May the Gryffindor's determination and Ravenclaw's cleverness be with you during these dark days!

# 

Harry woke up fresh and full of ideas. It was as if his mind had been working on his problem all night. He dressed quickly, grabbed his bag and all but run from the Tower. He was too late to notice that he was too early in fact. It was still slightly dark outside and the Great Hall was empty. Only a few House Elves were running around, cleaning the tables and the floor. Kreacher wasn’t one of them, so Harry sneaked out unnoticed. He wasn’t sure he should be there this early.

He didn't want to go back to the Gryffindor Common Room and he had all his books he needed for that day, so the Saviour decided to go outside, now that he had some time. As he approached the Main Entrance, he suddenly realized given the early hour, it might still be closed. However, as he walked closer the door slowly opened and the iron hinges squeaked quietly. Cold wind swept inside and suddenly, Harry regretted only bringing his jacket with him. Regardless, he walked out into the icy morning.

The sun was just above the horizon, bringing an orange hue to the Grounds. Another four inches of snow had fallen last night, but the grey clouds above the Gryffindor still promised a good deal more. Harry stepped off the stairs and felt an unexplainable giddiness as the untouched whiteness crunched under his feet.

The Boy Who Lived quickly casted a warming charm on his boots then headed towards the Lake. It was certainly less frightening now than last night, even more, he would rather called it beautiful actually. The ice was thick on the top of the water and clear. Not even one tiny, thin crack ran through it, and there wasn’t even a speck of snow on it. It seemed as if someone had made sure that the creatures below would still receive sunlight.

Though as Harry remembered, those creatures lived so deep below that sunlight never reached that far in the first place.

He fisted his frostbit hands and sunk them into his jacket-pockets as he strolled to the edge of the Lake. Struggling to overcome his fear from the last time he had stood over a frozen pond, he came closer and closer. With one last daring measure, he stepped on the ice.

There wasn’t any splintering; the thick ice upheld his weight easily. He could even jump up and down on it, it wouldn’t break. Indeed, he tried his theory and managed to stay dry. As he watched the grey water beneath him, a weird sensation came over the Chosen One. He almost expected to see the sword down below however, only a grindylow swam by not in the least affected by the chilly water.

He shook his head, chuckling at his stupidity. The war was over and these were new times. A changing world, where Voldemort was dead, a Slytherin and a Gryffindor were friends, and where Severus Snape and Harry Potter were... what?

“What are we...?” Harry asked, his eyes casted down on the ice.

Unexpectedly, the ice answered. “Humans?”

Harry twisted around so fast, his boots slipped and he fell onto his bottom in a remarkably ungraceful way.

“ _Merlin_ , stop being so sneaky, would you?” The Gryffindor cried rolling halfway onto his side, massaging his aching butt.

“I’m not sneaky, Mr. Potter. It is not my fault you are too busy talking to the ice to not hear me approach.”

“I wasn’t talking to the ice, I was talking to myself, sir,” said the young man before he sniffed and held out a hand, expecting to be pulled up.

Snape watched him from the edge of the ice but did not come closer. “Fascinating conversation it must have been,” he remarked, then raised his eyebrows, because Potter didn't lower his arm.

“Please?” The Saviour said reluctantly, still sitting on the ice, his arse close to freezing off.

The headmaster huffed but if it were anyone else, the green eyed young man would have declared that sound as a chuckle. “Come on, you moron.”

“Oi!” The Gryffindor shouted offended then the professor grasped his hand and the insult was forgotten. For a moment he contemplated pulling the man over him so he could feel the warmness radiating from the whole man, not just from his long fingers.

Strong hand pulled up The Clumsy Saviour of the Wizarding World with such momentum, that he had to steady himself. How else could he do it of course, other than placing his free palm on nice, broad chest and grasping into thick travelling cloak?

“Hello, Professor Snape,” smiled the young man when he finally managed to stand steadily on both legs. It seemed however, that he wasn’t able to tear himself away from the other wizard. Not that he even tried, really.

“Good Morning, Mr. Potter,” came the answer, uttered in a soft tone.

In the meantime, Harry was painfully aware that their hands were still joined and between their bodies. Not sure how he should behave but enjoying the situation very much indeed, he decided it was better not to move. After all, if he was the one breaking the connection first, that might offend Snape.

“How are you doing today, sir?” Asked the Gryffindor conversationally.

The headmaster watched him for a second, than the faintest of smiles curved his lips. “Will you let go of me sometime today, Mr. Potter, or do you wish to escort me to London?”

Harry laughed, but stepped away. “Sorry,” he said, and meant it. He wasn’t sorry for holding on, but for letting go, but Snape didn't need to know that. “So, you’re going to London?”

“That is where I was headed when I spotted you jumping up and down on the ice. Care to provide any explanation?”

Harry was a few steps ahead but he looked over his shoulder and smiled as he answered, “Nope, not really.”

The sneaky headmaster had caught up to him with two big steps so the Gryffindor Golden Boy only needed a sly side glance to examine his professor’s outfit. Below the thick black cloak, was a thick black coat, paired with presumably thick black pants and most definitely thick black boots. Not so surprisingly, the sinister look was topped with a black scarf.

Surprisingly, however, the Saviour found that sinister look absolutely fantastic on a certain sneaky headmaster, who shall not be named aloud unless there was total darkness and no roommates around.

“Looking fancy, I see,” Harry teased grinning but keeping his eyes away from the older wizard. “Important meeting with the Minister, perhaps?”

“The Board, actually.”

The smile was gone so fast from Potter’s face as the snow was from the branches of the Whomping Willow. In fact, the sensation in the pit of the young man’s stomach was very similar to being hit by one of those branches.

“Well I guess you must hate being Headmaster then, don’t you,” Harry stated quietly. He could hear the spiteful edge to his words, but suddenly he didn't care.

“What do you mean, Potter?” The black eyed man asked carefully.

“All they needed to do to chase you away was to write a letter and ask politely.”

Snape stopped dead in his tracks, though they were still couple of feet from the gates. The Boy Who Lived, And Will Die Probably Soon tried to avoid his eyes, but he couldn't avoid the smooth voice that poured down his ears like the hot chocolate that went down his throat the previous evening. “I see. Anything else you wish to get off your chest?”

The Saviour of the Wizarding World snapped up his head and looked dead in the black eyes. “Yes, actually. You changed since the war.”

“Very good observation, Mr. Potter. Your remarkable talent rivals even the great Sherlock Holmes,” arrived another snarky response from the former spy.

“Why aren’t you angry at me?” Asked the hot-headed young man feeling as if the anger he expected from Snape was surfacing in him. “Why aren’t you fighting? Why are you _pretending_?” Harry lowered his voice when a flock of birds got suddenly scared of his shouting and flew away from a bush nearby. “Why aren’t you mad at them? I saw you, you know. I saw you when you read the letter the first time and you were angry then, why are you so unnaturally calm now? It’s like...”

The Gryffindor didn't know how to finish the sentence, but luckily he had help.

“Like I don't care?” Snape asked, his voice still steady and not betraying even a smallest of emotion. “Why do you want to know, Potter? Why do _you_ care?”

“Because you matter!” Harry said before he could think. When he realized it was too late to make it not happen, he sighed deeply and explained. “You matter to Draco and you matter to Minerva, they are both worried about you and so am I. You’re a good person and Luna was right, I’m only just getting to know you, the real you, I mean. And you’re good for this school, you’re a good Headmaster and they should realize that and I’m sorry but I can’t just sit around and do nothing while they fire you. I want to fight and I want to prove they’re wrong, so why aren’t _you_?”

The Headmaster was smiling as he answered. “You see, Mr. Potter, I was about to go to London and propose your idea about the open Christmas Gala to the Board, but right now, I’m very concerned. You sound awfully like Albus and anything that reminds me of something coming from that man’s gob has ‘horrendous’ written all over it.”

It took a moment for the Chosen One to comprehend what Snape had just said but when he finally understood he grinned back at the man. “You were?”

“I was and please note the past tense. I changed my mind. As you said, I look like I don't care anyway, so why pretend.”

“Noooo! _No_! I was wrong. I was absolutely wrong!” Laughed Harry as he placed a hand on the Headmaster’s back and started pushing him towards the Main Gates again. They walked quietly for a glorious few minutes in which Harry conveniently forgot to remove his hand.

“I’m tired of fighting,” Snape admitted so quietly, Harry wasn’t sure he even heard it. “I’ve spent more than half my life doing it and I just... want it to end. I’m tired, Potter. But the fights never end.”

“You know, I think you just need some soldiers to fight along with you. You’re not alone, you know. We can help. We like to help, you know. We helped Hagrid, too when Buckbeak was in trouble, for example.”

“That creature was sentenced to death. If that’s your best, I’m doomed.”

“No, that’s not-“

“It’s alright, Potter,” said the Headmaster before he pulled his wand from his pocket and opened the gates. “And I appreciate it.” Harry was surprised to see, the other wizard was smiling. “Take care of Hogwarts, while I’m gone.”

The Saviour stood straight in front of Snape and looked directly into the dark eyes. “Yes, sir.”

The headmaster was about to turn around when the young hero reached out a shaking hand and grasped the man at his elbow. “And professor, I mean it. We’re here, if you need help with anything.”

“Careful there, Mr. Potter, I might take you up on that one day.”

“Oh, sir,” laughed the Gryffindor awkwardly, “you can take me any day you want.”

There was a momentary pause, where both parties replayed that sentence in their heads over and over again, just to make sure they heard it correctly. As the moment ended and the former spy stepped forward, the young wizard drew back slightly.

“Up. Take me _up_ ,” stammered the Chosen One, withdrawing his hand but not knowing suddenly what to do with it. “On that. Any day.” He stumbled on the words like a drunkard. As his arm was still aimlessly flailing between them, the green eyed young man decided it was time to regulate the useless limb and he draw it through his thick black hair.

The professor advanced again; it was just a tiny step, yet his presence was all of sudden more threatening. His actions and words, however spoke about caring. “You seem cold, Mr. Potter,” murmured the older wizard. “Your hands are shaking, am I correct?”

The Gryffindor Golden Boy nodded, what else could he do, though he was not cold in the least. Quite the opposite in fact. A nice warm, blush was creeping up his neck, making him suddenly warmer than the Sahara.

Meanwhile, the headmaster did something very not-headmaster like. He unhooked his black, knitted scarf and pulled it over his head, just to fasten it around Harry’s. The young man felt the noose around his neck but interestingly, he didn't feel like he was about to meet his end. And especially not, when the headmaster carried on his not-headmaster like actions and gently tugged Harry closer by that soft scarf.

“You know what they say about wishes and caution, don't you?”

“Uhm...,” breathed the Chosen One eloquently.

White puffs of air escaped from the Headmaster’s mouth and the Gyriffindor watched them float away transfixed. Or maybe he was more focused on the lips- once again.

Then Snape stepped away and Harry almost fell face forward on the ground. The former spy walked out through the gates then turned towards the Saviour of the Wizarding World.

“Have a pleasant morning, Mr. Potter.”

Harry raised his hand and waved, smiling. His other hand was buried deep into the warmness of his new scarf that he intended to keep if not forever but for a couple of millennia at least.

“I hope everything goes well. I just wish I could help... do something, you know...” sighed the young man.

The Headmaster smirked catlike as he answered, “Like what? Give me a good luck kiss?” Then he turned on his heels and was gone with a crack.

And at that moment it hit the Saviour. He might have kissed Draco that night, but Snape still knew about it just the same.

It was official. He would murder the Malfoy heir.

The Saviour walked back to the castle in a slow, comfortable pace. The black scarf around his neck was nice and warm and smelled wonderfully. He couldn't help but smile. The blond might have been an asshole reporting their incident to the headmaster, yet the older wizard was still talking to the Gryffindor, moreover gifting scarves, hot chocolate and smiles. That must have meant something, right?

(◡‿◡✿) ******************* (✿◡‿◡)

The morning went by uneventfully, which was a problem, since Harry had a murder to commit. His target unfortunately had not been seen all forenoon. The Gryffindor was almost at the point where his murderous intentions gave place to worry, but just almost. He denied himself to feel worried about a little rat like Malfoy.

Convincing himself that the weird sensation in his belly wasn’t worry just hunger, he looked around the corridor leading to the Slytherin Common Room one last time then turned around and headed towards the Great Hall.

No later than he crossed the threshold of the Hall to finally have some lunch, was the Boy Who Lived grabbed by the arm and dragged out of the warm room by an unknown force.

“You ruined it!” Shouted the unknown force then it shoved him into an unused room

“Excuse me?” Asked Harry, getting ready to get on with his plan.

“Astoria and me!” Draco glared at the Harry like he should know what this was about. Which he did not.

“I haven’t even talked to her yet!”

“Oh you didn't need to! It’s more than enough that you come here with your ridiculous ideas!”

“Malfoy, what the hell are you on about?”

The blond took a deep breath, dropped onto a bucket then began to explain. “Yesterday, we met after class, because she wanted to give me something. Anyway, we started talking and it went great, we talked for hours. Then you ruined everything!”

“And how exactly did I ruin your date all the way from the Gryffindor Tower?”

“I mentioned to her your idea,” Draco stated, looking up at the Saviour.

“What idea?” Asked the raven haired man confused. He postponed his murderous plans, more curious now than angry.

“Your idea that started all this! About the marriage contract and making certain amendments before the marriage just to be sure!”

Harry watched the blond for a few seconds, then carefully inquired, “What on Merlin’s beard did you say to her?”

Draco gulped slightly. “Well, what you told me. That if things don't go well between us, we could just enter into an open marriage and you know... enjoy it.”

“You absolute idiot!” Cried the Chosen One. “But things were going well between you two! That plan was in case you hate each other, not in case she turns out to be a nice, clever, funny witch you happened to fall for after a couple of days.”

Luckily Malfoy didn't deny the “falling for” part, otherwise Harry would have to return to his plans about strangling.

“Yeah, but...”

“No buts, Malfoy! You like her, why on earth would you say something like that to her? Or what? Is that what you want? An open marriage?”

“Merlin, Potter, of course not!” Shouted the blond. “I couldn't do that to her. I just offered it to her, in case, you know... _she_ doesn’t like _me_.”

“But she does!”

“Well not anymore, thanks to you and your stupid ideas!”

“It’s not my fault you’re an idiot!” Harry argued. “What did she do when you told her?”

“She slapped me!” Cried the Malfoy heir offended.

“Good. You deserved it. What else?”

“Nothing. She ran off.”

“What are you not telling me?”

“Nothing.” The bond stated. “Nothing. She did nothing else.”

“Just because you say it three times, it doesn’t make me believe it. What else?”

Malfoy glared at the Gryffindor for a moment but then said very quietly, “She might have been crying. A little. And I’m not sure!” He added quickly.

“Please tell me you run after her.”

“She _slapped_ me, Potter!”

“Yes, and I feel like doing it, too,” sighed the Chosen One. “Go to her and apologize. Beg for her, if that’s what it takes.”

“I will not!” The Slytherin cried in outrage.

“Yes, yes you will,” declared the Boy Who Lived and pushed the pouting wizard out from the supply cupboard.

“Get your bloody hands off me, Potter!” Said Draco struggling to get free. “That witch offended me, Potter, and I will not apologize. If anyone, she should.”

It was the green eyed wizard’s turn to glare at the other and he did indeed, menacingly. “Okay... Alright Malfoy. But if on the day of your wedding, she spits on you, I’m just going to stand there, laugh and congratulate her on her aim.”

“Go to hell, Potter!” Shouted the pale young man as he turned on his heels and marched away.

“Been there, thanks,” murmured the Gryffindor.

(◡‿◡✿) ******************* (✿◡‿◡)

Harry slumped on his chair and gave an exasperated look to his friends across the table.

“What’s bugging you, mate?” Asked Ron pushing a plate full of chicken wings towards the Chosen One. According to his belief system, food can solve all problems. Or at least make them seem less horrible.

The Gryffindor was at a point where he considered even this idea could work. He forked some crispy wings and spooned some mashed potato on his plate before he answered, “Snakes and ferrets. Just the usual.”

Hermione and Ron shared a secret glance only lovers could decipher then both looked at the third party of the Golden Trio. “So, Snape and Malfoy? What’s going on with our two favourite Slytherins?” Inquired the witch.

As the food wasn’t helping with his problem, the black haired wizard grabbed the nearest available pitcher of pumpkin juice and poured some in his glass, wishing it was something stronger, like tea or whisky perhaps. Then he lowered his voice and retold the events of his last twelve hours, including the reason why the Malfoy Heir wasn’t present at lunch, why he looked towards the Main Table every second or so awaiting the return of a certain headmaster and even why the Saviour of the Wizarding World had been walking around all day with a sore bottom.

When he finished his speech his food was cold and his throat was dry thanks to whispering. He downed half of his cup, hoping it would help. By the time he realized his juice did not have the usual taste but was sweeter – much sweeter actually – he wasn’t in the state of mind to care about it. The forefront of his mind had been taken over by one thing and one thing only.

“Draco’s an idiot,” the bushy haired genius stated with a shrug, “and as for Snape...  I don't know what to make of him. But don't get your hopes up, Harry... he’s, you know...”

“Gorgeous? Funny? Clever?” Smiled the Golden Boy with eyes wide open.

“Actually, I wanted to say, our _headmaster_ ,” she said carefully. “As for now, anyway. Are you sure this is the best time to... well, _accept his scarf_ , when there are people trying to get him fired?”

“And what the hell do you mean by gorgeous?” Laughed the ginger. “It’s the git we’re talking about, for Merlin’s sake. I don't know why you want to... _accept his scarf_ , but I’m sure it’s not his bloody looks.”

“Don't insult him, Ron.” Harry snapped up his head. “He happens to be very handsome. He has beautiful eyes and I love his huge-”

“Don’t you dare finish that sentence at the table, Harry Potter!” Hermione shrieked. Many heads span towards them, so the witch smiled politely at the curious folks before she lowered her voice and turned her attention back to her arguing friends.

“You cannot be serious, Harry!” Frowned the redhead.

“I am!” Declared Harry. “I love him. I’m madly in love with him and I don't care what you think I will tell him how I feel, because he’s the most perfect wizard who has ever lived.”

“That’s a bit of an over-exaggeration, isn’t it?” Snorted Hermione, lifting her cup of pumpkin juice to her lips.

“Shit!” Shouted Ron suddenly and smashed the glass out of her hands, which fall to the stone floor and scattered into millions of pieces. “Sorry! Just a bee. Almost stung her.” He explained to half of the Great Hall around them, who were paying avid attention to the unexpected and loud noise.

“What is wrong with you?” The bushy haired young witch whispered rather waspishly as she flicked her wand and the glass was whole and back on the table again. “Have you gone mad, Ronald?”

“No,” Ron murmured back. “I just don't want to hear you, too going on about how gorgeous and beautiful Snape is.”

“Why would I ever-“ Started the witch but was interrupted when her best friend smashed both his fists onto the table and leaned over her with a menacing expression.

“He’s mine! Don’t you even dare!” Harry snarled.

Hermione was torn between laughing and crying. Luckily Ron offered a clarification that explained everything.

“Love potion.”

“ _What_?” Breathed the witch, staring at her boyfriend with wide eyes.

“Look,” said Ron, “just trust me, okay. I remember how it was. I mean look at him, he’s completely... _love-struck_.”

Hermione did look at said young man. As she looked she wanted to slap herself for not recognizing the signs. The huge green eyes were dreamy and were slowly scanning the room obviously for menacing looking headmasters. If that wasn’t scary enough, the girl realized that the familiar expression on her friend’s face reminded her of no other than the famous but idiotic Gilderoy Lockheart, which meant only one thing: trouble.

“Ron, we need to get him an antidote! We need Slughorn.”

Her boyfriend pointed at the Head table and shook his head. “He’s still eating. I rather not go and explain this right next to McGonagall.”

“I don't need Slughorn,” chipped in the Chosen One. “I need Snape. I _want_ Snape.”

The other two shared a glance. “And you shall have him,” smiled Ron. “C’mon, Harry, let’s pay a visit to our favourite professor, shall we?”

The Saviour rose from the table with a foolish grin and strolled out of the Great Hall.

“Do you think, this is really a good idea?” Hermione asked, following him with her brows knitted. “This could go terribly, _terribly_ wrong.”

“Hermione, what’s the worst that could happen? Whatever he says, Snape will know it’s just the potion, but if we let him lose like this...? You heard the rumours too, didn't you? It can be dangerous. For both of them.”

They went with the love-struck hero to the Headmaster’s office and as usual the gargoyle moved away. All three of them murmured a thanks as they stepped by it, not quite sure if the statue was just  animate enough to move or actually living like the paintings for example. They ran up the stairs, and then Hermione knocked on the heavy wooden door.

“Professor Snape? Are you here? Please, we need your help, sir!”

The Golden Boy watched the door eagerly. The minute it opened, he launched himself towards the professor, wrapping his arms around the rather shocked man. “God, I missed you...” He breathed softly against the older wizard’s neck.

“What the bloody hell do you think you are doing, Potter?!” The Headmaster fumed in response to the lovely welcome, trying to pry off the tentacle like arms with no evident success.

“Loving you,” smiled the Saviour burying his face deeper into long hair.

Black eyes went suddenly wide and the former spy froze as if a Petrifying Charm had hit him. He turned his eyes at Potter’s companions and demanded, “Explain.”

“We think he might have accidentally drunk some... love potion, sir,” said the witch carefully.

Snape’s face darkened but then he took a deep breath. “These bloody pranks are getting out of control! Get him off me!”

“Yes, sir,” The ginger agreed keenly just to be on the safe side. Then he proceeded to liberate the headmaster and managed almost as successfully as Hermione was doing setting free the Hogwarts house elves.

“Potter, let me go,” ordered the professor but the strict voice was in vain. Harry, like the house elves, loved where he was and he didn't intend to go anywhere else in the near future unless it involved a bed. Snape therefore tried a different approach. A much softer approach that made the other two in the room feel uncomfortable just for existing. “Harry...,” the man whispered smiling. “Please let me go. I have a gift for you, but I can’t give it you unless you let me go.”

Ron was half surprised half nauseated to find out Snape had a playful edge to his tone as he spoke. Hermione was surprised as well, however the second half wasn’t nausea more like envy. Ron had never talked to her like that, however she must admit, Ron’s voice most likely wouldn’t even have the same effect on her.

In the meantime, the Gryffindor Golden Boy stepped away from the love of his deluded life and grinned teasingly. “You shouldn’t have...”

“I most certainly should not...” murmured the Headmaster as he turned away. He walked to his desk and that was as far Hermione could follow the events because then she noticed the lustful look Harry had in his eyes as he watched the Headmaster’s mid section.

It would have been alright but then the Slytherin turned around, yet Harry did not avert his curious gaze. That still wasn’t all that concerning. The problem was, as Snape prepared the antidote he still managed to notice the heated glare aimed directly at his crotch. At this point, Hermione was sure it would be safer to just leave Harry as he was. After all, everyone could survive a bit of humiliation but the brilliant witch wasn’t sure the same could be said about surviving Snape.

“Drink this. You will love it,” said the former Potions Master dispassionately.

“Make me,” smirked Harry, biting his lower lip.

Ron decided it was time he left the room.

“Don’t you dare,” Snape commented as the redhead reached the doorknob. “Get this imbecile out of my office, then make him drink this anyway you can.” He held out the potion to Ron and Hermione as he leaned against his desk.

“No,” said Harry suddenly. “That’s your gift, I don't want it from _them_ , I want it from _you_.”

“Here it is, take it.” The Headmaster held it towards the Chosen One now.

“Well not like that...” grinned the poisoned Gryffindor. “Mouth to mouth.”

A lot more noise broke out after that sentence than anyone expected three people to make and a second later Hermione realized that the portraits that so far pretended to be peacefully asleep as usual, were in fact wide awake and they were the ones making the extra noise. Some laughed or snorted, others gave voice to their displeasure.

The current headmaster was the only person present – dead or alive – who remained completely and utterly silent. Harry approached him as carefully, as one approached a wild hippogriff. He ran a hand up Snape’s chest and suddenly ‘uncomfortable’ wasn’t enough to describe the awkwardness of the room. Therefore Hermione hurriedly picked up the nearest available book, while Ron turned to look out the window, then both of them quickly started pretending they were, in fact, just lifelike statues at the wrong place.

Harry wasn’t aware of the panic behind him or the watchful gazes from above aimed right at him. Fortunately, he was only aware of the man all but arm’s reach from him. He was aware of the obsidian eyes and he was aware of the slowly rising and falling chest under his caressing fingers. Then there was the lust he felt – he was aware of that too. A small, still sober part of his mind understood that unlike him, Snape was aware of all this and even more. But sadly, that part was currently sedated, silenced, tied off, gagged and petrified somewhere in the very depth of his mind.

The professor glanced down at the Gryffindor’s hand on him, and then he looked back at the startlingly green eyes. He seemed rather bored. Which was the complete opposite of his next actions. The headmaster grasped his foolish student’s hand, pushed himself away from the desk and marched towards the door, dragging the Chosen One by the wrist after him.

The door banged closed behind them. Voices drifted from down below the Great Hall, but otherwise it was quiet on the stairway. The candlelight flickered in the small air currents. The scenery was calm, only the headmaster was furious.

“I told you to stop with these pranks before Draco pulls out his nastier tricks, did I? Didn’t I warn you, Potter?”

“Please don't be angry with me. I don't like it when you’re angry with me...” The younger wizard pouted, then to make sure Snape became less angry, he touched the man again. Softly, just on his chest at first, then he caressed the Slytherin’s side, then his shoulders, and his neck and the back of his head. In the end, he was so close they breathed the same air.

“But of course I’m angry, Potter,” said the man in a low voice. “I’m disappointed in you, too. You never listen to me. When will you learn to listen?”

“I’m listening now,” Harry answered in a gentle tone. “Tell me what you want.”

“You don't care about what _I_ want, Potter, you’re not listening to _me_ , you’re only hearing the potion in your body.” The Slytherin cupped the young wizard’s chin in his palm and drew his thumb over the soft, wet lower lip. “Tell me, what does it tell you now?”

“I need you,” whispered the Chosen One in a hoarse voice. There was truth to his words, he did need Snape. He needed him because the potion was coursing through his system and Snape was the only one who could cure his poisoned mind. He needed him because he wanted to end this mad situation. But there was that other part, gagged and sedated but still there, who knew, he needed Snape even before he had drunk the potion. “I need _you_...” He repeated, his tone broken, almost muffled.

“That’s right, Potter.” The professor’s deep voice remained quiet and close to threatening, but all the green eyed man understood that it was seductive as hell. “So mark my words. With behaviour like this, you will only lose me.”

With that, Snape poured the antiserum into his mouth. He leaned even closer to the Saviour. He didn't need to force Potter’s mouth open, the second he was close enough, Harry moved forward as well.

The Gryffindor kissed the thin lips softly, before he opened his mouth to finally receive his gift. The serum wasn’t more than a gulp and tasted nothing special – herbals, perhaps and had a bit of fresh, lemony aftertaste but it really wasn’t anything special. Its effects on the other hand... It was like a hit on the head. In one second he was blissfully ignorant and madly in love and the next he felt normal once again, understanding what had happened, what was said and what would probably be said, yet his mouth was still on Snape’s.

The sensation was rather remarkable, the guilt indescribably horrible. In the next second or so, Harry conducted a fast analysis: the guilt couldn't be amplified, but the sensation could be. With nothing left to lose, he moved again. He grasped into Snape’s hair, pulling the wizard closer and as if the Slytherin had been waiting for that clue, he thrust Harry against the cold stone wall and kissed him hard. Strong hands on his hips kept Harry where he was, not that the Gryffindor had anywhere else to go. He felt perfectly at home kissing his headmaster, running his fingers through soft, long hair and caressing hard chest. He soon forgot the guilt and felt nothing else just the demanding lips kissing him.

As suddenly as it started, it stopped. The former spy stepped away and walked back into his office as if nothing had happened. Hermione and Ron were out of the door immediately, then tried to pull and push Harry off the stairs who was stubbornly still staring at the closing door.

“Did you kiss the boy?” Dumbledore’s calm voice came through the small crack.

“I made him drink the serum,” was the curt answer.

“How?”

“By making him drink it.”


	10. The Boggart

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **HAPPY CHRISTMAS! You see, we open the presents on Christmas Eve. So this is my present for all of you whether you celebrate Christmas or not, it's yours, keep it, love it, do whatever you want with it :)**
> 
>  
> 
> **I hope you will enjoy this and have a wonderful Christmas time!**

“He made me drink the serum,” was the same answer Harry told his friends that afternoon, _all afternoon_. He simply couldn’t explain why he suddenly didn’t want to tell them about the kiss, when it was so easy to talk about the one with the disguised Malfoy. But this was different and he knew it. He couldn’t explain but he knew it. He forced a headmaster into an uncomfortable – to say the least – situation. He wasn’t the one to blame, his mind was after all altered by the potion, but still, would there be any consequences? What about Malfoy? The Gryffindor was still mad at the idiot for many reasons, yet he didn't want the blond Slytherin to be punished. Though knowing very well Snape and Malfoy’s history, the boy had about as little chance of receiving detention from Snape as Harry had from Hagrid – albeit as the rumour had it, the half giant had become a much stricter teacher nowadays.

Harry Potter was panicking. This wasn’t quite his usual panic after kissing, like the one before. This was a bit more serious. This wasn’t about what to say to Snape after this, how to approach the subject, not even about a grabbing-dragging-kissing plan. No.

The Chosen One’s problem was, that he _honestly_ wanted to help Headmaster Snape keep his title. He also honestly wanted to shag his way through his headmaster’s bedroom, or really, any other room – the place wasn’t of importance. Now these two ambitions were rather incompatible. So he needed to decide which he wanted more. Snape as headmaster, or Snape as... something else.

As the Gryffindor wasn’t willing to admit he was as self-centred as the Malfoy heir, he outright denied choosing between the options. He wasn’t willing to give up on experiencing that mind-blowing kiss again, but going through with that part and not helping the professor keep his chair would be selfish. Which Harry Potter was not.

But so far, no idea came – hence the panicking and it didn't help that he had his two favourite yet currently rather irritating lovebirds constantly chirping around him.

“Harry!” Ron’s cry brought him out of fixatedly staring into the roaring fire in the Gryffindor Common Room for probably hours now. He was once again sitting in his favourite velvet seat, his legs dangling over the arm of the chair, while his head was cushioned against the soft back.

“Ron,” he said shoving a ball of paper into the hearth. “If you ask me about it one more time I will hex you out of here.”

“Mr. Potter, I’m afraid spell-casting is limited to classrooms only,” warned a silky voice behind the black haired young man.

The Chosen One tried to look back and sit up properly at the same time, with little success however. He missed the handrail, slipped and fell half way out, knocking his head against hard wood floor. He faintly heard Ron’s sniggering and Hermione’s gasps but was more concerned about acting casually in front of his only Headmaster.

“Hello, Professor Snape. Visiting two times in one week? What do we owe the pleasure?” He asked smiling as nonchalantly as possible with his legs still hanging across the chair but his upper half flat on the floor.

“Elegant as ever,” sniffed Snape. “I came to take you up on your earlier _offer_.”

The Gryffindor’s heartbeat stopped. One needed guts to present an open offer like that right in the middle of a group of teens. He admired his professor up to a certain level, but he personally would have handled this a bit more privately.

“Oh...?” said Harry.

Snape smiled. “Your offer about helping me?”

“Oh, that one!” Laughed Harry leaning up on his elbows. “What can we do for you, sir?”

“Congratulations, Mr. Potter, Miss Granger and Mr. Weasley,” Snape said, handing out three rolls of parchments. “You are now members of the Christmas Ball Committee.”

“What?” Roared Ron from behind a book.

“What?” Echoed Hermione from under her mountains of homework.

(◡‿◡✿) ******************* (✿◡‿◡)

As it turned out being a member of the Christmas Ball Committee wasn’t that bad. It involved planning and organizing everything from music and the decoration to menus, invitations and that meant working until late hours in the evening but it also allowed the members to roam the castle even after curfew as most of them only had time to plan during that time. Also it was easier when the castle was quiet and there wasn’t many tiny first years running around.

The members had to be in seventh or eighth year and they had to know the difference between scarlet, red, carmine and rosso corsa, had to be able to differentiate between two almost identical ribbons and were not allowed to say “It doesn’t matter to me.” They always had to have an opinion about anything. No matter how trivial.

There were thirteen of them. Mostly from Gryffindor (The Trio, Ginny and Neville), while Luna and Astoria represented Ravenclaw, there were three boys from Hufflepuff and two girls and a boy from Slytherin. Everyone reported to Harry and Harry reported to Flitwick after each day.

Before long, the upcoming Christmas spirit and the fact that lessons were over turned the committee into a jolly bunch. Soon the Hogwarts House Elves were asked to wear cute little red caps –they obliged happily – and they were referred to as their Little Helpers. Kreacher, leader of the group of Christmas House Elves even got green shoes of his own with the tip curling and pointing upwards. He seemed very satisfied with them as he cleaned the singing armours that were taught new songs. Hermione, Astoria and Flitwick worked out a way to make tiny little lights in many colours, so from the first day of the winter holiday the candles weren’t the only light sources in the corridors. The tiny glowing points hovered in the air and around the railings bringing the school in a festive mood.

A week before Christmas, Harry was informed by a smiling Minerva that students were asking to stay at the school until the ball and then be allowed to go home with their parents for the rest of the holiday. Transportation required a lot of organizing but with some special requests towards Kingsley it was all dealt with, too. Hermione and Ron decided to stay as well, and even invited Mr. and Mrs. Granger.

Newer and newer articles appeared in the Prophet about the Christmas Ball. The Chosen One read the paper with a huge grin on his face every morning as almost all mentioned Snape in a favourable way. The wizard wasn’t the headmaster with a dark history anymore but someone who wasn’t afraid to show he appreciated traditions but was willing to introduce something new if needed. Much like his predecessor.

Though Harry was happy about that, something worried him about the Headmaster. They were not speaking anymore. Or meeting, basically. Or seeing each other at all. Ever since the Gryffindor Golden Boy was appointed as the head of the Christmas Committee he had not seen his favourite professor.

Nor Malfoy, really. The young Slytherin wasn’t seen on the corridors often and was still angry with his soon to be; at least that was what Hermione implied after having a long chat with Astoria while producing the little glowing lights one night. And given Harry was now often hanging out with the clever Ravenclaw and was still irritated because of Draco’s latest prank with the love potion, he hadn’t seen the Malfoy Heir as regularly as before. He wasn’t prepared to say he _missed_ the blond but his absence from their little gang was certainly noticed.

On the morning before the big night, the Golden Trio was asked to accompany Hagrid into the Forest in search of thirteen perfect pines. The three youngsters were grasping onto hot butterbeers and laughing as they went deeper and deeper into the forest.

“The C. B. C. has been working an awful lot on this night,” Hermione stated. “You and Malfoy better not mess this up with one of your pranks.”

“C. B. C.?” Asked Hagrid.

“Christmas Ball Committee,” explained the girl.

The redhead snorted. “You mean-“

“NO, Ron, _no_! I don't mean that vulgar-”

“-COCK?”

“First of all it would be C-O-C-K and no, that is _not_ our name.”

“Yes, it is,” Harry agreed sniggering.

“Should I ask what... that is?” The half-giant inquired. His beard moved slightly – Harry suspected he was smiling.

“Committee of Christmas Kitsch.” Answered Harry and Ron in unison.

Hagrid roared up with laughter but Hermione crossed her arms on her chest. “You are the head of-“

“COCK, yes, Hermione, I know. And that’s why I voted for this name. So much better than C.B.C.”

“That’s the name Snape gave us!” Argued the bushy haired witch with a tone, which suggested that alone should convince Harry to drop COCK.

It was ineffective. “Well you certainly can't expect Professor Snape to call us COCK,” Harry reacted. “Maybe a synonym... prick perhaps?” He looked at Ron who seemed thoughtful for a second.

“Panel of Revolting and Infinite Christmas Kitsch?” He suggested not quite satisfied.

Hermione pushed him aside so firmly he landed giggling madly in a snow covered bush. The redhead then made retaliation by grasping Hermione around the waist and pulling her in there too. Harry and Hagrid walked on laughing.

 “I’ve been hearing a lot about these pranks of yours, Harry.”

“My pranks weren’t even that bad.” Commented the Gryffindor.

“You’re going far too easy on the Malfoy boy if you ask me,” murmured Hagrid, his black beetle eyes glimmering mischievously.

Harry glared at his professor. “Do you maybe have something in mind, Hagrid. I owe him a big deal, actually.”

“Yeah, I heard,” mumbled the other. “Why don't you visit that last empty room on the third corridor’s left side? Maybe you will find some inspiration there.”

“ _Professor_ Hagrid,” laughed the young wizard, “are you giving me ideas how to misbehave in the school?”

“Whoops, we’re there. Choose your trees and let’s go back. I have some Christmas shopping to do.”

(◡‿◡✿) ******************* (✿◡‿◡)

Harry wasn’t sure it was a good idea to leave his COCK team behind and sneak out in the middle of the Christmas tree decoration to check that last room on the third corridor. Knowing Hagrid nothing good awaited him, the only question was what kind of monstrous creature should he expect this time. A giant three headed dog, or human eating spider the size of the mountain? Other options were dragons, another giant relative, or a werewolf maybe? The brave Gryffindor grabbed the handle and opened the door rather anxiously.

“Hello...?” He cried and his voice echoed in the dark room, but no one – or nothing – replied to his greeting. He flicked his wand, murmured, “Lumos,” and looked around in the unused classroom. When something wheezed in the shadows, he backed to the door. The blood froze in his veins. “Shit...” groaned the not so brave Gryffindor when a black bony arm reached out of the darkness. It was covered only thinly with skin but that was rotting as well.

The Dementor wheezed again. It was ragged and cold and as frightening as ever. Harry let out a shaky breath. “Hagrid, I’m going to kill you,” he murmured but then stopped for a second and started thinking. Now, Hagrid loved beasts but to send Harry directly into a Dementor’s lovely arms that was a bit-

“Hold on, a second! You’re not even a Dementor, are you?” The Chosen One smiled confidently, concentrated hard and then said the spell. Suddenly the wraith tripped on his torn clothes and fell to the floor. It rasped heavily again while on its knees.  The Gryffindor snorted then used the charm he learned from Lupin to force the monster back into an old cabinet, which threatened to fall apart every time the dark creature shook itself inside.

The Saviour smirked. This was the best Christmas gift he could give to the blond Slytherin.

(◡‿◡✿) ******************* (✿◡‿◡)

The Gryffindor had been waiting in the room for a couple of minutes now. Malfoy should be there soon, to listen to Harry beg for apology, as he promised in the letter he had sent to the blond an hour ago. The Malfoy Heir, however, was up for a surprise regarding this. There wouldn’t be any apologies here, only revenge.

The door creaked open and voices passed through into the darkened room.

“I can't talk right now, I’m meeting Potter,” that was Draco’s voice and he sounded rather rueful. He did feel sorry.

“Draco, I’ve got a howler from my mother, they realized we’ve been talking. I’m in trouble and if I’m in trouble, you’re in trouble too.” A female voice said strictly. The Gryffindor had gotten to know that voice in the last couple of days. 

They weren’t the only one in trouble, Harry realized. If Astoria came in the room too, the plan was over. This was a brilliant plan Harry was rather keen to see to an end satisfactory to him. Malfoy however seemed rather keen to talk to his fiancée. An understandable, yet currently unwanted action, Harry thought.

The blond peeked into the room and judged it – incorrectly – empty. The Ravenclaw lit a candle on the wall.

“What am I to tell mother?” She asked irritably.

“You tell her whatever you want. What’s the worse she would do? Call off the wedding?” Draco sneered.

The show should go on, the green eyed wizard decided still a bit uncertain. Draco deserved this and Harry could apologize to Astoria later.

The Gryffindor drew his wand and flicked it towards the closed cupboard. As it opened slowly and creaking, the Saviour of the Wizarding World wondered what the Malfoy Heir was most scared of. Would it be a gigantic snake, or something weirder? A clown? A dragon?

But it wasn’t a clown, nor a snake that slithered out of the cabinet.

“Draco, Draco, Draco...” hissed the red eyed Dark Lord with a malicious smile. “You shouldn’t have betrayed me.”

Astoria screamed but Draco just stared at the apparition. Harry could read his expression clearly, the young wizard was terrified. Absolutely, truly horrified by what he was witnessing.

“You can't be-“ stuttered the blond. “You... Potter...”

“ _No one_ can kill me, Draco. I am the Dark Lord. I am _immortal_.”

For a second, Harry almost believed it, too. It was too real. The snake like features, the red eyes, the intense, hateful glance, the white skin. It was fucking terrifying. So terrifying in fact that as he watched the creature sneak closer to the petrified Draco and Astoria, all Harry wanted to do was run to Snape, pull him close and burry his head into the other’s neck and be held. Just so he knew he was alive.

“What a lovely lady,” Boggart-Voldemort said smiling, but the gesture had nothing warm in it. “Shall I introduce Fenrir to her. I’m sure he would love to play with her fragile little neck. Bite it... tear it apart...”

“Fenrir’s dead!” Malfoy screamed, grabbing Astoria and pushing her behind him. “And so are you! You’re not real! You’re dead! Potter killed you!”

“I was rumoured to be killed once, Draco, but I returned,” chuckled the Dark Lord proudly. “No one can kill me,” he whispered then cold as the ice outside the windows. “But I can kill you, Draco. And her too.”

“Leave her alone!” Draco snarled viciously, protecting the shaking girl with his body. He drew his wand fast and casted a stunning spell, Harry suspected he just wanted to get out of the room and not actually win over the supposedly dead dark wizard.

The spell hit the centre of Boggart-Voldemort’s chest, who staggered backwards and slipped on its long black robe. Limbs flailing, it tried to regain control over its body, needless to say, it didn't manage. It ended up on the floor and got entangled in its clothes.

“Draco...?” whispered Astoria. “That’s...”

“That’s not very Dark Lord-like...” The blond agreed, his grey eyes narrowing suspiciously. “Potter?” He shouted uncertainly towards the dark side of the room.

Harry grinned. “Yes?”

“YOU SON OF A BITCH!” Malfoy bellowed. “You absolute-“

“Not in front of the lady,” said the Gryffindor walking out from the shadows. He made the boggart disappear, before he continued. “And before you kill me, just remember what your latest prank was. And the one before that. And the one, before that.”

Draco gaped. Just that. His wand was still in his hand, his gaze wandered from his alleged friend to the empty floor where Voldemort lay only a second before entangled in its own robes.

Harry meanwhile, turned to Astoria. “I have to apologize from you, though. I’m terribly sorry, you shouldn’t have been here and I just-“

He couldn't go on. The flock of little yellow canaries came at him from out of nowhere. “Harry Potter, you bastard!” Astoria cried. “You scared the life out of me!”

“I know and I’m sorry! I really am!” The Gryffindor cried, trying to shoo away the birds. It wasn’t working. The better he tried, the more vicious the yellow creatures became.

Draco watched his soon to be wife, attacking and shouting insults at the Hero of the whole Wizarding World and suddenly, he started laughing.

“I’m so sorry, Astoria,” he said softly. “I was an asshole.”

“What?” The witch asked surprised. The canaries stopped.

The blond took her hand in his and looked into the blue eyes. “They were right, I should have apologized sooner. I was horrible, and I didn't mean it like that. I was just scared you... you... I like you, Astoria. I like you a lot, and I think this marriage... I think we can make it work.”

“Draco, what are you talking about?”

“The marriage contract, what we talked about last week.”

The girl’s expression clouded suddenly. “Not this again,” she growled.

“No, Astoria, that’s what I want to say. I don't want anyone else. I want you, only you. I _want_ to marry you. No special clauses, nothing. Just you.”

“Draco...,” she sighed tenderly.

“A few moments ago, all I wanted was for you to be safe. I hardly cared what he does to me, I just wanted to get you into safety. You’re important to me, Astoria. Please forgive me. Please...”

Astoria watched the Slytherin, then looked up at Harry anxiously.

“Please forgive him,” Harry added quietly. “All he ever talks about nowadays is you. He really cares for you. He’s just an idiot,” laughed the Saviour. “And he will kill me for this, if you don't forgive him.”

The Ravenclaw chuckled then hugged her fiancé. “You really are an idiot,” she whispered.

“You have no idea,” Harry grinned as he slipped out of the room next to them.

He heard something heavy thud against the door.

(◡‿◡✿) ******************* (✿◡‿◡)

The members of COCK were saying their goodbyes and Harry couldn't look at them more proudly. He positively beamed as he watched them in the glimmering lights of the Great Hall. Everyone seemed festive, and excited about tomorrow. They were singing or humming Christmas Carols, and exchanging little gifts. They had won over the prejudice against the Houses and now Slytherins mingled with Hufflepuffs and Gryffindors challenged Ravenclaws for a match of Wizard Chess.

This was the Christmas, Harry loved so much. It wasn’t the gifts, the lights or the feast he enjoyed about the holidays, but merely being together with friends and family. No one needed grand gestures to tell how important the other was for them; a simple game, a nice smile and a soft touch was enough to say, “it’s nice having you around”. Most of their little team didn't need more than that, they barely knew each other, but as Harry watched them stroll out of the Hall, he was sure these people would stay friends even after the Christmas Holiday was over.

Some of them even more than friends.

Astoria had returned with Draco on her arm and they had decorated Christmas tree after Christmas tree, talking non-stop. Some of the other COCK members had decided it was easier to just let the couple work on their own tree than listening to Draco retell his family tree. As Harry watched them now, smiling happily at each other, walking out of the room, he hoped this look on their faces wouldn’t change even after their wedding. Malfoy deserved someone nice and by the look of it, Astoria was perfect for him.

After the Gryffindor had said goodbye to everyone, including the other two-thirds of the Golden Trio, he decided to make one last check of the whole Great Hall. He wanted the decorations to be perfect for tomorrow. He wasn’t quite sure why, though he suspected it had to do with who had tasked him with this mission.

As he stood in the middle of the room and looked around in the vast hall, he smiled at the sight that greeted him. The long tables were gone – for this Christmas they brought back the smaller round tables. They were set up already with white and red tablecloth. Tomorrow evening the ornaments and the wreath in the middle would change and instead bigger decoration would be there: a snow globe on all the tables, magical of course, they didn't need to be shaken at all. Snow fell inside them, children figurines were sleighing and Christmas trees twinkled.

The thirteen huge pines stood proud all around the Hall, dressed for the occasion. Real, but never melting icicles and snow covered the evergreens. Some of them were decorated with a theme, there was at least one tree for each of the Houses, but most wore all the Hogwarts colours – green, red, yellow and blue. Bigger and smaller ornaments shined on them, reflecting the thousands of tiny, colourful glowing lights all around. Fairies twinkled on top of them, dashing playfully across the room from time to time, sprinkling golden dust. Their quiet, mischievous giggling sounded like tiny bells.

Under the trees lay boxes, all of them wrapped in colourful papers. Harry knew exactly how many, as he helped putting them there. He also knew there was enough for everyone visiting the Ball. Reporters, family members, Hogwarts students – all of them would receive at least one gift on Christmas Day, even if they had no one left to go home to.

Snow fell from the Enchanted Ceiling, bringing almost unnatural silence and tranquillity to the Hall. It was as if someone had put a glass dome on the room – the peace was heavy but calming. The world had stopped for a moment just so that Harry could reach up and try to catch a magical snowflake but of course it was out of his reach.

The footsteps behind him echoed in the quiet around him. The Chosen One smiled as he listened to the approaching noise. First it was hurried, dynamic, but then it slowed down suddenly to a gentler pace and then stopped completely. Harry had no doubt who was behind him and that the man had just noticed what they had done to the Great Hall.

He turned around, wanting to speak, but his words got stuck in his throat. Headmaster Snape was looking around with something close to awe on his face. The Gryffindor didn't believe his eyes as he watched his professor’s lips curve into a soft smile slowly. He wasn’t sure what, the smile, the festive decoration, the Christmas feeling, or simply his jolly mood, but something made the Slytherin suddenly much more attractive. Which was a challenge already, given the young wizard had been barely able to think of anything else during the last couple of days besides their passionate kiss. However, the moment he remembered the kiss, he also recalled Snape’s warning. ‘ _With behaviour like this, you will only lose me_.’ The Saviour knew only one thing: he didn't want to lose Snape, which meant he had to be patient and he had to behave. The only question was, for how long? Even after mere days of his chastity vow, the Chosen One already had fantasized about the taboo, for long hours, no less, in the darkness of his bed. He had been _kind of_ behaving for a week; no grab-drag-and kiss plans, no private meetings with the Headmaster and he was getting impatient.

“So, khm... how do you like it, sir?”

Black eyes snapped at him, observing the slightly anxious Gryffindor now, and not one of the pretty fairies. “Actually, Mr. Potter, I’m rather pleased. It seems my little soldiers are more competent than I’d hoped.”

“We can be very competent when we want to,” laughed Harry, scratching his nose. “So you like it?” He asked with his head tilted.

The professor watched him in the dim light, clearly torn between saying what was on his mind and having trouble complementing something Harry Potter had done. Or well, organized, mostly.

Then, as if giving up on resisting the inevitable, he sighed then said, “Yes.” The Headmaster looked around slowly one more time. He smiled softly when he noticed the green-silver tree. “Potter...” he said then hesitantly. The Chosen One realized the man wanted to talk about something serious and his pulse quickened. “In normal circumstances I wouldn’t be asking this from you, but... do you happen to know what the situation is between my godson and his intended? Draco and I had an argument over the topic, you see, and he avoided me ever since.”

Harry stared, rather gobsmacked. Well that relationship wasn’t really the one he wanted to talk about, but never mind. “They’re doing okay.”

Snape raised an eyebrow. “They are?”

“Yeah,” Harry nodded, smiling. “Nothing, but a bit of help from good old Voldemort to make them realize what’s important.”

Another eyebrow joined the first up there. “Do I want to know about that?”

“Well,” laughed the Gryffindor,” you can't take points from me for something you don't know about, therefore I’m going to say, I would rather you didn't want to know.”

Snape’s laugh was deep and rich and arousing as hell, which Harry denied to admit even to himself.

Fairies giggled over them, but they didn't sound like bells anymore. The Gryffindor thought, they were rather mocking, taunting him, jeering at him for something he had done once and should do again sometime around right now.

“There’s something else,” said the former spy all of a sudden, inspecting a crystal ornament on the nearest tree. “I owe you an apology.”

“What?” Blurted the young wizard stunned.

“My behaviour the other day... It was ina-“

“No, sir, _no_ ,” cut in the Saviour fast. “There’s nothing you should apologise for. All of it was my fault and... Merlin... I shouldn’t have. I’m sorry.”

“No, you shouldn’t have”, agreed the Headmaster as he looked Harry in the eyes. “You should go now.” He said quietly. “And Potter... I appreciate this. I really do,” added the wizard motioning around them.

Harry was surprised to notice that his newest plan, which involved behaving and all that sort of stuff he had never really mastered in his life, was all of a sudden in grave danger. What danger, it was already six feet under and taking the last of its shallow breaths.

“Sir... can we talk?” He inquired softly.

“What about?” Snape reacted coolly. “Don't you think it’s a bit too late for a chat now?”

No matter how subtle it was, the Gryffindor understood the other meaning to this sentence: it was done, let’s not mention it again. Unfortunately, that wasn’t how Gryffindors handled a problem. They didn't sneak around it, they stood right in the problem’s face and told them what they wanted, no matter how distracting the problem might be or how much this would endanger any kind of future relationship with said problem.

“Well I don't know, how about that we kissed?” Harry asked casually. “It’s a good topic, right?”

Judging by Snape’s expression, no it was not a good topic. Not in the least.

“Excuse me?” Sneered the Headmaster. Harry decided he wouldn’t get offended. Snape must have been just scared or anxious. It didn't escape his deluded mind however that the deep, soft voice suddenly turned ice cold and distant. “You are quite mistaken, Mr. Potter, we did not kiss. You kissed _Draco_ , yes. I merely distributed an antiserum to you the only way you would take it at that moment. I assure you it was _not_ a kiss. Do _not_ complicate things.”

The Slytherin, judging the conversation had finished, looked at Harry and motioned elegantly towards the door, as if the Chosen one had asked for directions. The Gryffindor, one part transfixed other part out of his mind most likely, found himself walking to the Headmaster not out the door. Without a second thought, or really even a first one, or just a tiny bit of reflection about what he was about to do, he simply grabbed the Headmaster’s arm and turned the professor completely towards him. In the next moment, he found himself in the crossfire of that intense black gaze. Numb, he did the only thing he did think about, more times than could be considered healthy.

Harry leaned forward and kissed Snape, actually kissed _him_ , not a Polyjuiced Malfoy, and it wasn’t done for any other reason just because he _wanted_ to.

The Headmaster remained utterly motionless. The Chosen One kissed his lower lip, then not having anything left to lose, slipped his tongue between Snape’s lips, and pressed it against crooked teeth, all but praying them apart. He finally wormed his tongue through and suddenly the once dreadful spy melted like ice cream left out in the sunshine. Snape let out a funny little noise, then kissed back, what kissed – he devoured Harry, his former restrain gone, tongue siding against Harry’s, tasting him, fingers gripping into black, unruly hair.

One could hardly say they broke apart as their hands were still holding onto the other man, with lips still close enough to accidentally touch if a fairy bumped into them.

“What part of ‘ _do not complicate_ ’ was hard to grasp?” asked Snape before his lips found the Gryffindor again.

Harry thought of a snarky reply, he really did, but it was gone the second his professor thrust his tongue back into his mouth. He grabbed into soft cloak with one hand and long hair with the other and pulled the Slytherin as close as possible. Devouring each other, they stumbled backwards until Harry felt one of the tables’ edge hit his arse.

He grunted with pleasure softly but then Snape leaned away from his mouth and the grunt turned into mewling as the older wizard dragged his tongue over Harry’s neck, tasting his skin that must have been salty after all the work he had done this afternoon. Harry fisted clothe or hair, whatever came between his tensing fingers. Thin lips moved on his skin upwards, and then Snape was back teasing his mouth with kisses so sweet and demanding Harry had barely enough willpower to stay upright.

Breathless, they parted but not too far. Harry, his heartbeat drumming like rain on a tin roof, leaned to Snape’s neck and traced the long line with soft nibbles and licks until he reached the wizard’s ear. He sucked in the lobe and heard a whimper that broke up from the former spy’s throat. The whimper became moaning and hands grabbed into Harry’s raven hair, pressing him down onto the sensitive skin.

It took Harry a solid five minutes to make his professor moan his name. If someone had asked him what he was more proud of, getting rid of Voldemort or this, he would have said the latter. But no one asked him anything because the only person present was busy wordlessly begging, which pleased the Saviour to no end.

Just when he thought he had the upper hand, he felt a hand slowly slithering down on his chest, and its final aim wasn’t really a question. The excitement exploded in Harry’s stomach and groin, making what he thought to be already completely ready even _more_ _ready_. He whined desperately when the hand took a turn and moved over his hip.

Snape heard him and it seemed kissing made him more compliant because he slowly edged his right hand even further down – hip, then waist, then thigh, then-

“Oh god!” Harry cried, trying to muffle it with the Headmaster’s skin. Snape laughed again darkly and suddenly Harry’s mind went mad with lust. “Harder,” demanded the young man wildly.

He froze for a second when the Headmaster removed his hand from his front but then he was relieved to feel it and one more grab onto his arse and all but make him mount Snape’s thigh between  his legs. Harry had barely enough time to moan, “Bloody hell,” before the former spy’s sharp tongue was back in his mouth doing what it did best. Harry groaned unstoppably, thrusting his hips forward, rutting against firm thigh, while Snape’s hands were gripping his buttocks, massaging them but mostly just helping Harry drive back and force.

“Ah hell... bloody hell this is brilliant...” groaned the young wizard, his every second moan a sharper cry of pleasure.

“Hush...” whispered the Slytherin, just as breathless as Harry. “We might be heard...”

Harry kissed him wildly before he pushed his hand down and pressed it against the hardest thing in the room that wasn’t made of wood or iron. Snape jolted suddenly and cried out louder than Harry.

“ _You_ hush,” grunted the Gryffindor grinning while enjoying the result of his revenge, “when _you_ _’_ _re_ about to come.”

As a response he was tossed onto the table, where people would be eating in a couple of hours. The pounding became harder, and much more intense. So did Harry’s desperate cries. And also other parts of him. He grabbed into the tablecloth over his head and arched his back as Snape gorged him alive. The man mouthed his neck, sucked on his skin and the Chosen One’s shouts resonated in the Great Hall.

“Fucking hell, Potter, be quiet...” Snape growled despairing, as if he didn't give vocal reassurance of his pleasure every second or so.

The Gryffindor believed sometimes honesty was the best road and besides, not that he had any filter currently working in his mind that could stop him saying in a lust filled voice, “Put your cock in my mouth and you’ll hear no more words from me.”

Animalistic snarl broke out from the depth of the Headmaster’s throat. The Gryffindor didn't realize it was a moan until he heard the answer. “And just how much would you talk if I put my cock in your arse instead?”

Harry gaped at the wording for a quarter of a second but couldn't stop the helpless shout of ecstasy that erupted from him as he arched himself from the table again while coming hard. Snape’s whole body tensed as well but the man bit down into Harry’s shoulder so that his cry was at least muted by sweet skin.

They weren’t the only ones coming. The golden plates and the centre ornament came down onto the floor as well, making much more noise than Harry and Severus together. They pushed away from the desk, scared of the sudden clattering, both panting heavily but otherwise a glorious mess.

Hair dishevelled, cheeks pink, lips swollen – this was the hottest thing the Gryffindor had even seen.

“This was-“ Started the Headmaster, casting cleaning spells on both of them.

“-Amazing,” finished the young wizard.

“ _Foolish_ ,’ The professor corrected irritably.

The Saviour felt a sudden slump in his stomach as he watched Snape spell the plates, the ornament and tablecloth back into their rightful places as if this was the most normal thing to do after rutting against one’s student.

 “I should go,” Harry said quietly.

“Yes, you should,” murmured Snape.

Bells chimed midnight not far away as the Boy Who Lived contemplated what to do now. He watched his Headmaster for a few more seconds, but then he turned away.

He only managed to take one step, before long fingers snapped around his wrist and pulled him back. A hand cupped the back of his neck and Snape leaned to his lips once more. This kiss was slow, sweet and tender and Harry wove his arm around the older wizard as well, pulling him into an embrace as they kissed.

The Slytherin pulled away just enough, so he could form the words, “Happy Christmas, Harry.”

The Saviour of the Wizarding World decided, he would never willing let go of this man.

“Happy Christmas, Severus.”


	11. The Candy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy New Year! Sorry I'm a bit late with this! I'll do my best to finish the last chapter soon, so you can have it next week! Because yes, we only have one chapter left! Wait, is that a good thing or a bad thing?
> 
> PS: I really appreciate the love on this story guys! It means a lot to me and I'm so happy to see you are having fun :)

And happy Christmas it was indeed.

Harry woke up the next morning grinning from ear to ear, feeling much more excitement from the red marks on his neck than from his presents – no matter how many and amazing they were. He opened his gifts still numb in mind and yet hypersensitive in body from last night, but as he unwrapped his usual green Weasley jumper and his heart suddenly filled up with warmness towards his surrogate family, a part of his brain was still replaying the events of the previous evening with details and even a quite remarkable sound system.

Snape’s deep, throaty moans were the best gifts one could get. At least that was the Chosen One’s firm opinion on the subject.

Just as he was pulling the warm, knitted pullover over his head, someone knocked on their door. Not even waiting for the answer, bushy brown and flaming red haired girls stormed through the door. Hermione all but jumped at Ron, who was barely out of bed yet. Harry heard the words _book_ and _thoughtful_ but still didn't understand the sudden enthusiasm.

“She got a very rare book,” explained Ginny, sitting next to the Chosen One. “And I mean _very_ rare. I don't know how he got his hands on it. Hermione has been going on and on about it all year.”

“The one about Gringotts history?” Asked the greened eyed young man, smiling.

“That’s the one.”

They watched the other two lying on the bed arms around each other, laughing and Harry felt a sudden sadness wash over him. He could have had this with Ginny. Dating for a couple of years, then marriage and children. Laughter, love, happiness until his last day.

Instead, he chose Severus Snape. Did he even have a future with the man? How long would this last? What did _this_ even mean?

“Happy Christmas, guys!” Neville joined their merry group, still wearing blue striped pyjama bottoms and a dark blue jumper.

“Happy Christmas!” Answered Ginny and the others, too, after her.

“Hey, Gin,” Neville smiled at the redhead. “What are you up to today?”

Ginny considered him for a second, and then grinned. “Snowball you into to ground.” With that she smacked Harry’s pillow to the young wizard.

Neville laughed and threw it back at the girl. “Challenge expected. But Harry’s in my team.”

“What? That’s unfair!” She cried after him as Neville sneaked out to the bathroom. She turned and glared at Harry as if it had been his fault that he was chosen. “You will help me, won’t you?” She asked, batting her eyelashes.

Harry gasped dramatically. “And betray my comrades? No way, Ginny! I am an honest man!”

“The hell you are!” Ron snorted, sitting up. “But we’ll see after breakfast.”

“We should get going,” Hermione added. “I want to see everybody’s face when they walk in the Great Hall.”

“Well then,” Harry motioned to the door smiling. “Get out of here so we can change.”

“See you downstairs,” the redhead girl said then skipped out, while Ron went after Neville. Hermione stood too, but before she would walk out, she turned to Harry.

“You look happy,” she commented quietly, but beaming.

“It’s Christmas, Hermione. Of course I’m happy,” laughed the Saviour.

“Oh I see,” smirked the witch. “Did Santa give _that_ to you, as well?” She asked, her eyes fixed on the wizard’s neck.

Harry blushed and immediately covered the red mark as if that could make it disappear. “Not exactly,” he said, peaking up at Hermione.

“No wonder, you’re so happy,” laughed the witch, then she turned suddenly serious. “Please be careful, Harry. Find out what he wants first, alright? I don't want you hurt in the end.”

Harry stared at the girl’s back as it disappeared behind the door. First, he should find out what he himself wanted, shouldn’t he?

(◡‿◡✿) ******************* (✿◡‿◡)

The members of COCK sat at their tables almost literally glowing with pride. Professors and students both gaped at the beautiful decoration of the room and the young witches and wizards couldn't be more proud of themselves.

Harry and the rest of his group happened to choose the exact same table where the Boy Who Lived had an orgasm last night. The memories of that rather remarkable event didn’t leave Potter alone and it certainly didn't help that he knew, his plate – with the Christmas tree shaped pancake – was the one that ended up on the ground. But at least Headmaster Snape wasn’t present yet, which meant, Harry could at least have a couple of bites for breakfast even though his stomach was a big knot, while his heart continued to beat in his throat making him unable to swallow anything. Anything solid at least.

Astoria and Malfoy strolled in, hand in hand. The Gryffindor was happy to see that his friend and his soon to be wife seemed to work out their problems completely. With one last kiss on the cheek, Astoria sat with some of her fellow Ravenclaws, while Draco joined their table.

“Good job, Potter. I didn't know Christmas kitsch was your specialty.”

“Neither did I,” laughed the Saviour. “My only problem is, I don't know what job would require being good at decorating, catching small golden balls and killing homicidal maniacs. If you hear about one please let me know, you might have just found my calling.”

Draco laughed darkly. “Don’t forget breaking and entering.”

“Oh no, that’s Hermione’s specialty,” Ron grinned.

“I hope that’s not the only thing I’m good at...” the girl murmured.

Minerva held a small speech after breakfast, thanking COCK – she used their more formal name – their hard work, after which she announced when the Christmas ball would start. Though the event officially only began at seven, they expected the family members from five, therefore, the deputy headmistress asked all the students to be prepared by that time.

Meanwhile, Draco pulled out a vivid orange bag from his pocket. “Candy, anyone?”

Harry laughed. “If you think I’m willingly accepting anything from you, you’re deluded.”

“You can,” Ron said taking a piece. “These are George’s, aren't they? Completely harmless.” After a second of hesitation, he added, “Well... you know. Not _that way_ harmful, anyway.”

The Slytherin raised the bag, so that everyone could see the three golden Ws on the sack. “I wouldn’t say harmless. There are tricky ones in there, which make you sing Christmas Carols. The rest is just fudge.”

As if on mark, Ron started singing Rudolf the Red Nosed Reindeer. He was so horrible, Hermione casted a Silencing Charm on him.

“Here,” The blond said, throwing one at Harry. “Try it, if you dare.”

Harry just pocketed it. For reasons perfectly clear for everyone at the table, he was still a bit distrustful.

(◡‿◡✿) ******************* (✿◡‿◡)

They spent the whole day outside, enjoying their well earned free time. Harry and Luna were building a snow- Crumple-Horned Snorkack in the most of the forenoon while discussing the possibility of its existence. Or more like, the blond witch did her best to convince Harry, who decided it was easier to agree. The redhead Weasleys and Malfoy on the other hand decided to show their appreciation of their teachers by making a snow statue of them. This way, no matter where they went, students of Hogwarts could always meet one of their not so liked teachers glaring at them from behind bushes or trees. It was rather creepy – even if the statues were made of snow.

During the afternoon, another Gryffindor joined them, true to his promise. And thus the challenge begun. Soon however, the snow ball fight between Ginny and Neville grew into a full blown war between more than twenty students. The COCK members and their friends divided into two groups and the viscous battle begun behind swiftly erected snowwalls.

The Chosen One was caught off-guard when a certain redhead girl attacked him from behind. The cold bomb that smacked to Harry’s nape, wasn’t enough, Ginny came right after it, throwing herself bodily at the young man. The Saviour staggered and fought heroically to stay upright. He gathered his strength and run for it, trying to shake of the girl, but she clutched onto him like a baby bat. They laughed happily, until the Saviour tripped and dived head first into soft, fresh snow.

“You okay, Harry?” Shouted a booming voice, not far from them.

The Gryffindor looked up and around, and even though his glasses were covered in snow, he could still spot the huge dark blotch on the road. The huge dark blotch wasn’t alone. There was another blotch next to it, smaller but darker.

Quick cleaning charms were casted and Harry pushed his glasses back on his nose which was, no doubt red by the sudden contact with ice cold snow.

“Yeah, fine, Hagrid!” He shouted back grinning, then let Ginny pull him up. He watched the girl head back to the others before he jogged to the two dark blotches. He slowed down right in front of them, trying to get the tons of snow off from his front.

“Hey Hagrid, Professor Snape,” he welcomed the men, who witnessed his defeat.

The half-giant pat him on the back and thanks to that all the snow fell off him, his clothes and glasses almost following. “Hullo there, Harry. Merry Christmas!”

And with that, the Saviour of the Wizarding World was swept into a bone breaking hug. He smiled, patting his big friend’s shoulder, saying, too, “Marry Christmas, Hagrid.” As they parted, Harry grinned at him. “So when’s Madame Maxime arriving?”

“Oh, I just got an owl from her. She will be a tad bit late. Her Abraxans got lost in a snow storm and she only realized it when the Spanish Aurors knocked on her window. She should be here around eight, she said.”

“She’s okay though, right?”

“Oh yeah, sure,” Hagrid laughed. “You know her. Clever and charming woman, she is. She explained the situation in a second and the Spanish were really helpful. The horses had a bit of whiskey and they were on the way here, right away,” grinned the half giant proudly. “That reminds me, I have to go and get their stables ready.”

Waving his bin lid sized hand, he said goodbye, leaving a quiet Headmaster and Potter behind. Harry wasn’t sure what to say, so he just watched Hagrid’s huge back getting away, perfectly aware of the dark gaze on him. When Hagrid was only a black blotch once more, but the Slytherin was still staring at him, Harry decided it was time to face certain problems again.

“Hello,” he said awkwardly then finally looked at Snape.

“Hello,” came the calm answer.

As conversations went, they had worse than this, the Gryffindor concluded. “Ready for tonight?” He inquired, as he started walking towards the Castle and the others.

“As ready as one can be, I believe.”

After this, it was silence again. As they walked next to each other, with arms brushing and casting sparks, no doubt, Harry wondered what he could say on this nice sunny day that would make last night repeat itself in one way or another. Then, he remembered that honesty had helped a lot last night. It should help this morning too.

“You know...” he said stopping all of a sudden, “I would really like to kiss you right now.”

Snape looked around quickly and even though no one was within earshot, he glared at the brave Gryffindor.

“I’m not an idiot,” added the brash young man quickly. “I won't do it. I’m just saying... I want to.”

The Chosen One waited for a response, any response really, with heart drumming wildly.

“Nice scarf you have there. Christmas gift?” The man asked and that certainly wasn’t the response the Gryffindor needed _or_ expected. Especially since he was wearing Snape’s black scarf in the first place.

He answered anyway. “It was a gift, but not for Christmas. He gave me something else for that occasion.”

Voice dropping an octave, Snape asked, “And did you like it?”

“Oh very much indeed,” Harry admitted bluntly and blushing madly, but not quite caring about that right now. “I just hope I won’t get the next part next Christmas. I’m not sure I can wait that long.”

Eyebrows shot up at the speed of dashing fairies. “And whatever makes you think, there will _ever_ be a next part?”

“Oh...” The Gryffindor mumbled with a tight throat. “Well, won’t there?”

“Most certainly not. Christmas comes once a year, Potter.”

“That doesn’t mean we have to, as well.”

Snape stared at him, disbelief written all over his face. Harry just shrugged, smirking a bit.

“Control your tongue, Potter,” snapped the Headmaster, looking around once again.

“Oh now you want that. Last night it was quite the opposite, wasn’t it?”

“Last night-“

“Was good and if you say otherwise, you’re lying. I was there, Snape. Right under you, remember?”

“All too well, Potter.” Black eyes were hard on him, but the Gryffindor straightened his stance and glared right back.

“I can't get you out of my head.” The young wizard said quietly and with reserved passion.

“I didn't even try,” sighed the professor, as he started walking towards the Castle once more. “I could barely sleep.”

“Can I see you tonight?” Asked the Chosen One eagerly. “And by see, I mean something else, just so you know.”

“You shouldn’t,” the Slytherin said and Harry heard the man’s voice was shaking slightly.

“That wasn’t the question. Let me rephrase this, professor. If I knock on your door tonight, will you let me in?”

They reached the bottom of the stairs. Snape stopped again and looked at Harry and the previous uncertainty was gone from him. He turned completely towards the green eyed man, his gaze searching for something on the young face.

“I imagine, there is only one way for you to find out.” With that, the Headmaster rushed up the stairs.

The gobsmacked young man just stared after him. Was that an invitation? He gulped already excited about this evening but his throat was too dry. He remembered the candy from the morning so he fished it out of his pocket and popped it into his mouth.

It was only later, when it all melted that he realized he wasn’t singing Christmas Carols but the candy didn’t even taste like fudge.

(◡‿◡✿) ******************* (✿◡‿◡)

An hour later, the Boy Who Lived and Was Currently Incredibly Embarrassed was running up the stairs all by himself. He was heading towards the Infirmary, hoping that Madame Pomfrey was in a good mood and would give him some Drought of Peace – or any kind of sedative really – while not asking any questions at all. The last part was very important because the young man was sure, there was no way in hell he would discuss his current discomfort with the mediwitch.

His current discomfort, that was once again all thanks to a smugly grinning blond Slytherin, had been bothering him almost ever since he had eaten that candy. It had started with a weird but not at all unpleasant twist in his lower region. He had thought at first it was all because of his expected next meeting with the professor but a few minutes later he had been forced to admit that was, in fact, not the case. His imagination was good, but not _that_ good.

He had tried to soften the problem simply by thinking of something else and not a dark headmaster but it had been quite useless. He had thought even about Dementors and yet his body would still be screaming for him to find some privacy and release. Not necessarily in this order.

He had decided it was easier to oblige. He had apologized and run away – that was when he had seen the smugly grinning blond Slytherin – and before he knew he had found himself in the Gryffindor dormitories all alone.

Then he had gone for the release part. The biggest fraction of his problem occurred then. No matter how hard he had grasped, how slippery his hand had been, how well he had recalled certain features of a certain man he was to meet that evening, the well needed oblivion had still eluded him.

Hence the sudden need for sedatives but no questions.

Panting because of two completely different reasons, the Boy Hero finally stepped through the doors of the Infirmary.

The second he reached the white beds, he realized Madame Pomfrey wouldn’t be asking any questions from him, because Madame Pomfrey wasn’t there. This wasn’t luck as one could assume. This was a horrible joke only Destiny found hilarious.

“I’ll be there with you in a second,” said a deep voice.

Harry was about to turn around and run, but Snape meant a second when he said it and there he was right in front of the Gryffindor before the young man could even move a muscle.

He looked rather confused, when he realized who the visitor in need was. “What seems to be the problem, Mr. Potter?”

To his credit, Snape acted normal. There wasn’t any teasing accent, an octave deep voice, nothing at all. The distant, cool tone made it certain that Harry understood, right now they were headmaster and student, nothing more.

Which brought up an even bigger problem.

“Uhm... you know what? I’m fine, it’s already gone.” The Chosen One turned to leave but the doors closed before he could reach them.

“Come now, Mr. Potter. You wouldn’t have come here were it not something serious. I know for a fact that you are quite capable of dealing with minor injuries. Tell me what happened,” ordered the man, his tone clearly indicating he wouldn’t tolerate any resistance.

“I... I can't. Really, I’m okay now,” shrugged Harry with a weak smile.

In reality he was as far from okay as one could possibly be. His lower region was almost on fire from the second he had seen his professor. That didn't really help him thinking clear. Not that he was doing that with Snape around anyway. But now, it was even worse.

“Potter,” sighed the professor, “whatever the matter, I hope you do know you can count on my professionalism and secrecy. Madame Pomfrey went away to visit family and she won’t be back until the end of the holidays. I assure you, I am perfectly qualified to help you with whatever you need.”

The answer, “I need you to fuck me senseless,” was on the tip of the Saviour’s tongue and the only reason he didn't say it aloud was because he was so turned on by that thought that he bit his tongue while thinking it.

“No, I don't need help from you,” groaned the prank victim.

“So your problem _is_ with me,” The former spy stated. “All the potions Poppy administers are brewed by me and-“

“I know you’re brilliant, professor. No doubt you could help me if I had any problem. But I don't. It was just a headache, but it’s gone already. Probably the cold air, or something.” Harry tried his best to act nonchalantly but the throbbing hardness between his legs made it rather impossible.

The professor leaned against one of the beds and crossed his arms on his chest. The Gryffindor knew he was in trouble once again, which was quite unfair, given this really wasn’t his fault. Snape’s words from the last time he had to help after a prank gone wrong echoed in Harry’s lust filled mind. There were many things he could still try to sort this out – he wasn’t willing to risk losing Snape. He was sure about that at least.

“A headache?”

Harry knew the man was seeing through his lie straight away. “Yeah, just that. Nothing serious.”

“As I see, you have two choices here, Potter. You can either be honest, tell me what the problem is, and I will do my best to help you, or you can continue to lie and I can promise you, in this case, we will not be seeing each other ever again. I do not like being deceived, as you well know.”

“Sir, I can't. Really. Please believe me. I wouldn’t say a word to Madame Pomfrey either. It’s too embarrassing.”

The Headmaster considered him frowning slightly. “That means it’s a prank once again. What did Draco do to you now?”

“Sir, really... please, just leave it. Let me go, and I can sort this out on my own.”

“Sit up there,” said the man instead and pointed at one of the beds. Harry complied, looking away. “Do you not trust me, Potter?” The older wizard asked suddenly.

The Chosen One snapped up his head and answered without hesitation, “Of course I do. But this isn’t about trust...”

“Yes, it is.”

“No,” Harry argued vehemently. “It’s not. I trust you with my life. But this is...” he sighed deeply. He wanted to crawl under the covers. “You warned me, but I didn't listen.”

“What exactly did I warn you about?” The wizard sounded a bit confused.

“About the more... oh god just bury me... the more _intimate_ tricks, Draco might do.” By the end of the sentence, the Saviour’s voice was almost inaudible.

“The more- oh.”

“ _Oh_ exactly,” breathed the raven haired young man and this time he did bury his head into the soft pillow. “It was a candy.” He murmured into the fabric.

“Did it... affect your uhm... front or back?”

“Please just let me go...”

“Answer me,” demanded the Headmaster. “The more you tell me, the sooner I can help.”

“Just give me a Calming Draught or something.”

“Potter,” said the man with another deep sigh. “I know Draco and unless he wanted to go easy on you, which given your past I honestly doubt, no potion can help you here.”

“Good,” Harry growled, still unwilling to look up, “now that we made that clear, I can go, right? You can’t help.”

“That is not what I said.” The professor said carefully. “ _Potions_ cannot help you.”

Harry, head still on the pillow, slowly turned towards the professor. He stared at the man for a couple of second, or maybe hours then he simply said, “No.”

“Tell me what the problem is. There might be a spell-“ Snape started but Harry knew he didn't believe it either.

“There won’t be a spell.”

“Of course there won’t be a spell, Potter,” snapped the headmaster. “We both know what has to be done and we both know why Draco is doing this to you.”

“And that’s exactly why I don't want to.”

“If I’m not mistaken, and hour ago you would have been more than eager to-“

“I’m still _more than eager to_ , and to be honest, that is the problem why I’m here. I’m more _eager_ than I can handle.”

The headmaster stepped closer but Harry buried his head back into the pillow.

“I only wish to help,” whispered the former spy. He put a hand on Harry’s back. Just put it there. It didn't move, it didn't caress the Chosen One – it was just there, being warm and reassuring.

“I don't want to lose you...” The green eyed man murmured into the fabric, his voice barely perceptible. “You said-”

“I know what I said. And I wish I were strong enough to uphold it. It is my fault, as well, that you are currently in this situation. Draco is unfortunately perfectly aware of my interest in you, hence the nature of his pranks. I should have stopped him earlier.”

“Why didn't you?” Asked the Gryffindor looking up shyly into endless black eyes.

“Maybe I enjoyed them just too much myself.”

“Maybe?” Harry let the edge of his mouth curl slightly.

“ _Certainly_ would be more accurate.”

The Saviour sat up again. “So you would help?”

“Before I answer that, I need to know two things,” Severus explained, leaning against Harry’s bed. “One, what is your exact relationship with Ginevra Weasley?”

“What?” Blurted the green eyed wizard confused.

“I have seen you with her this afternoon. You seemed happy.”

“I _was_ happy,” said the Gryffindor looking at his professor’s profile. “She’s a very good friend of mine and we were having fun. And besides, it’s Christmas. Everyone was happy.”

“Friend?” Inquired the Headmaster looking sideways at him.

“For a while now, yes. I don't want anything from her, and given she’s kissing Neville nowadays, I assume she doesn’t want anything from me either. Why do you ask?”

Snape remained quiet but his silence said more than words could.

“Oh! You’re jealous?” Harry grinned. “Now that’s just adorable.”

“Take that back, Potter,” flared the former spy, “or I leave you here with your little problem.”

“Not to be boastful or anything,” Harry peaked down at his lap, “but I wouldn’t really call this problem _little_.”

The noise that came out of the Slytherin was half way between a snort and groan. “Cheeky brat,” the man commented turning towards him. “That brings us to my second question. What is exactly your problem? Tell me everything what happened.”

Harry swallowed hard. “It’s quite simple actually. I ate a candy and now I’m hard as fuck but can’t come.”

He knew he shouldn’t be but he was rather proud that his blunt confession made Headmaster Severus Snape blush madly.

“Did you try-“

“I did. I tried so hard, my hand is still sore.”

Snape breathed in deeply. “You think you’re funny, don't you? What if I say, you have to stay like this the rest of the day?”

“But we both know, that is not what you will say, is it, Severus? You will offer to help me out. This was Draco’s plan from the bloody beginning, wasn’t it? First he made me lose my clothes to see, if you’re interested. You were. Next, he made me fall in love with you to see if you can be tempted to break the rules. You were. And now, he’s giving us a chance to not just break those rules but demolish them. Little does he know, we crossed that bridge last night.”

“ _We_ did not yet cross any bridges, Potter. Bridges will only be crossed when this will be public. Until then we can stop and forget.”

The Chosen One rolled his eyes. “Just because I didn't tell anyone, it doesn’t mean I don't want it to happen over and over again,” Harry said, shaking his head. “Of all I care, we can announce it tonight, if that will make you believe I’m bloody serious about crossing bridges.”

“Announce it? Are you mad? Do you want me in Azkaban now?” Snapped Snape glaring at the young man.

Harry grabbed the wizard’s shirt and pulled him closer. “Severus, for Merlin’s sake, all my blood is throbbing in my cock right now, it’s quite hard to concentrate on what you’re saying, okay? I don't want you in Azkaban, I want you inside me. Right this fucking instant, if possible.”

Demanding lips attacked his mouth right away. Snape stepped between his legs, grabbed the underside of his knees and jerked him closer. The Gryffindor moaned, thrusting his tongue into hot mouth where it slid against another wet flesh. As Snape grinded against him once again, their kiss became more fervent and less controlled. With hand grasping into raven hair, he bit swollen lips, till the soft flesh even bled slightly.

When the Slytherin finally unzipped his jeans, the trembling young man uttered a rather lion-like deep groan. Snape pulled away slightly and looked down as he pulled the blue jeans off Harry.

“Well, that is indeed a rather big problem,” he murmured, biting into his lower lip.

“Shouldn’t you be working on it then?” Grinned the Saviour.

Snape looked back into his eyes. His gaze was lustful and promised wicked things. “What’s the magic word?”

“Right now.” Harry answered, leaning back slightly.

Snape smirked and pushed him back onto the bed “So bloody cocky. One should teach you a lesson, Potter.”

“Aren’t you the professor?” Asked the Chosen One, watching as the headmaster slowly dragged his hand down his chest and stomach. “Teach me something.”

Severus leaned over him and pushed his shirt up so he can touch naked skin. And he did indeed but not with his hand. He used his mouth and tongue. He licked Harry’s nipples one after the other, until they became as hard as the young man’s certain other part. He kissed and caressed with his thin lips and then he used his slightly stubbly jaw to turn the Boy Hero into a quivering mess. When that was done, he said, “Here’s your first lesson, Potter.” He moved slightly lower on the other wizard and slowly, pulled off the simple black boxers. He waited – his mouth hovering over thick throbbing hardness, until green eyes turned to look at him. “Never mess with a Slytherin.”

And right there, in Hogwarts’ Infirmary, Harry learned his lesson. As Snape’s mouth moved on his erection, he learned his lesson over and over again. It was as if someone had removed a plug and by doing so he could finally reach all the orgasms he had previously tried so hard to achieve. But that wasn’t enough for his system. Even though he was shooting his seed down Severus’ throat, his cock was still hard, even harder than before, if that was possible.

Snape must have understood this better than Harry because the older wizard didn't pull away when the first wave subsided. He slowly kept on moving. The Gryffindor looked down, his sight hazy, but he could still see that the endless black eyes were stuck on him, observing each and every constriction on his face and body. His come dribbled out of the Slytherin’s mouth, wetting his red cock even more. As his professor reached the tip of his erection and his tongue shifted over the soft and currently _very_ sensitive head, Harry grasped into the covers and threw his head back again.

Though he didn't see anymore, he felt with certainty that Snape was smirking as he traced the whole length of his cock with his lips then took his balls into his wet mouth and sucked on them.

Fingers spread out widely moved on his chest upwards, shifting sensually on his tensing muscles. When they found a nipple they tweaked it, making the Chosen One take a sharp breath.

“It’s not enough... please Severus...” he begged, arching away from the bed. His head hung in the air, the blood flowing back there made him dizzy as hell.

The Slytherin curled his right hand around the Saviour’s hard cock, and started teasing the thick, pulsing shaft. He pumped up and down, his grip more firm around the top. He used his thumb to caress the side of the head, making Harry cry out in frustration. The young man pleaded for release, his words morphing into moans somewhere in the middle of his throat.

Luckily, Snape still understood him. The wizard took the wet head into his mouth again, his tongue swirling around the top, licking away the precome. Meanwhile, he didn't stop the pumping motion, but made it faster and harder. He jerked his long fingers up and down on Harry’s hard cock while sucking the soft head.

The Gryffindor groaned almost continuously now, thrashing his body on the bed. He crossed his legs on the headmaster’s back, hips smashing up, thrusting his cock in out of Snape’s mouth. For a second, he was scared, that no matter how intense the sensation was he still wouldn’t be able to come.

“Severus...” The Saviour moaned desperately and with that Snape’s hand shuddered slightly, throwing his previous rhythm off course. And then Harry finally came with a shout of pure ecstasy. His whole body arched away from the bed, all his muscles constricting at one moment. He fell back between white sheets, utterly spent, feeling weak and unable to move ever again.

Moments, hours or eons later, the Chosen One felt a cleaning charm wash over him. He was lifted up, dressed and arranged on the bed, then promptly covered by crispy, cool blankets. He felt as Snape leaned closer to him, but was too numb to open his eyes. He just let out a content noise and smiled.

Severus kissed him softly but the Gryffindor didn't even try to return the gesture. He just meowed again.

 “This was the second time,” the former spy whispered darkly, leaning to the Boy Hero’s ear, “that I came in my pants like a schoolboy because of you. The next time, I’ll be coming deep inside you.”

Harry groaned appreciatively and tried to wave his arms around the man but he got tangled in the covers. “That’s sounds good,” he mumbled then.

“See you tonight,” said the black haired wizard, then Harry could hear his departing steps.

“You better open that damn door, when I’m knocking...” he sighed close to actually falling asleep.

“It has always been open to you...” whispered a deep voice but it might have been just a dream already.


	12. The Truce

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Annnnnd the LAST ONE! This turned out about three times longer than I expected it to be. I really hope you will enjoy it!**

When Harry woke up, he was alone in the infirmary. The previously brightly shining sun had found sanctuary behind the distant mountains. The last of its rays still brought some light to the hospital wing, just enough so that Harry did not need to light up a candle to see what had woken him. He heard rustling along the bed, something brushing against the crisp white sheets, and then tiny bare feet clapped against the stone floor. He listened motionless and alert.

Something tugged on his sheet at his other side and he turned around quickly. He felt around for his glasses and put them on before he edged to the side of the bed and looked down. Relieved, he exhaled slowly. Round eyes, big as tennis balls, looked back at him from below. Long ears with well groomed white hair growing out of them prickled, then flattened slightly, as Harry rolled onto his back.

“Master has to wake up.” Kreacher whispered but his voice still rang around in the vast, empty room. “Master is expected at the Christmas Ball,” the old elf said softly, tugging at the clean Hogwarts pillow case he was wearing.

Harry sat up and stretched out, yawning. “What time is it?” He asked as his hands went under the bed sheet, to zip up his trousers.

“Four o’clock in the afternoon, Master,” answer the house elf. “The Headmaster wanted to give Master enough time to prepare himself and had sent for Kreacher to wake Master.”

As if waking from a drunken haze the Gryffindor suddenly remembered what went down in this room mere hours ago. He could still feel the soft lips on his cock and the hands on his body. He felt relaxed, his previous problem seemed to have ceased to exist after the Headmaster so readily came to his aid. How long would it last though, Harry wondered, already certain that his relaxed state of mind would change the moment he saw the professor this evening.

“Thanks, Kreacher,” said the Saviour gratefully to his elf.

“If Master does not need Kreacher anymore, Kreacher would return to the Kitchen, sir. There is plenty to do, the House Elves are busy,” said the small, wrinkly creature excitedly.

Harry nodded again as he waved his servant to go where he was needed. “Yes, yes, you can go. Thanks, I appreciate you coming up here for me.”

As Kreacher turned to leave, Harry cried after him. “Hey, if you need any help from us, from COC– I mean the Christmas committee, let us know, okay?”

Kreacher sniffed, clearly offended by the suggestion that he or any other elf in this school needed a wizard’s help to get things done. “The elves appreciate Master’s offer, but the Hogwarts Elves would never allow the wizards and witches they serve to help them.” He replied clearly irritated.

Harry smiled at the old elf. “You’re right. You could probably do a better job than us anyways.”

Kreacher nodded in agreement then with a snap of his fingers, disappeared. The bang of his apparition echoed under the arched walls for a couple more minutes.

The Boy Hero slipped off the bed and tried to collect himself. He pulled out his wand from his pocket and pointed it at the bed. He flicked it and the bed cleaned itself, while the sheets straightened and tucked themselves in neatly around the edges. Harry left the Infirmary leaving no trace behind, as if nothing had ever happened in there.

He hurried up the stairs, marching straight towards Gryffindor Tower, where his dress robes awaited him. He met Neville and Ginny on the way up, both still covered in snow, leaving a wet trail behind them. As they climbed through the portrait hole, the redhead reminded both young men that her mother was expecting to see them this evening, before she turned towards the girls’ dormitory and left.

Harry could sense Neville turn suddenly edgy next him.

“First time since you two...?” He asked and Neville smiled at him weakly.

“Yeah. I’m terrified.”

“Molly will love you,” Harry assured him as they walked up the stairs.

“It’s not her Mom, I’m worried about,” groaned Neville. “But the four brothers.”

Harry laughed, clapping his friend on the back reassuringly. He didn't want to remind the other that Molly Weasley could very well turn into a furious dragon when it came to protecting her children. Neville seemed nervous enough already, there was no need for further antagonizing.

As they walked into their room, they found Ron lying across his bed, his hands under his pillow, staring blindly into nothingness.

“Shouldn’t you be getting ready?” asked Neville from the redhead.

“Yeah, I suppose,” came Ron’s answer as he sat up. “You know what, you go first, I’ll have a word with Harry.”

Neville, shoving a towel over his shoulder, disappeared in the bathroom. Harry sat down next to his best friend. “What’s wrong?” He asked softly.

Ron pulled out a little black velvet box from under the pillow. He snapped it open with a finger, revealing a beautiful ring. The gold band was embroidered with Celtic motives and enclosed a huge diamond in the middle that had the colour of champagne and was surrounded by two smaller white stones on each side. The ambient light flickered off the gems almost blinding the two Gryffindors.

“Mom sent it ahead,” was all Ron said, looking at his friend expectantly.

Harry grinned at him as he answered, “I’m touched, Ron, but I can't marry you. I don't like gingers. You know I prefer greasy black hair.”

Ron just snorted then boxed into the green eyed man’s shoulder. “Sod off,” he grunted.

Harry laughed then massaging his sore arm muscle, beamed at his friend. “It’s gorgeous. She’ll love it.”

“It was my mom’s. She said Hermione deserves it more than anyone,” sighed Ron, but something was still bothering him.

“And she’s right.” Harry nodded supportively.

“But do I...?” He started hesitant, but then gulped and finished the sentence. “Do I deserve her?”

Harry patted him on the shoulder. “No,” he grinned.

Ron snapped up his head and looked at the Saviour with murderous intentions, while Harry just laughed at him gleefully. Then, deciding that he suffered enough, and probably would suffer even more during the next couple of hours, he looked into the blue eyes and smiled warmly. “Of course you deserve her. And she deserves you. You’ve been in love with each other for years, just ask her. She will be ecstatic, you’ll see.”

Ron nodded hesitantly, looking paler then Harry had ever seen him, though the tips of his ears were scarlet. “Thanks, mate,” he said softly, as he closed the little black box and sunk it into his pocket. He looked shocked when he raised his glance at his friend and shook his head slightly as if he were trying to shake something off his scarlet curls. “Blimey, Harry, am I really doing this?”

Harry smiled, grasped the strong shoulder firmly and said, “You’ve waited long enough.”

When Neville finished, Harry took over the bathroom. Then Ron showered too, and in the meanwhile the other two young men dressed up for the ball. It was nearly five when they were finished and Harry looked at himself in the mirror, feeling almost pleased. He took in the black suit and the bottle green robes over it; at least that agreed with his form. His hair was a mess as usual. His ink black locks stood unruly out of the back of his head, no amount of water or magic was able to bring them to cooperation. His reflection showed a bright grin and winked at him and Harry turned away from it quickly. Ten minutes before five they gathered in the Common Room, waiting for Ginny and Hermione. Harry felt just a bit awkward for not having a proper date for the night, but then Hermione showed up on the top of the stairs and his thoughts left him. She looked like a princess in her long, tiered, ruffled gown. He felt Ron bump into him slightly, as if swaying, then a hand grasped onto his shoulder for support. He smiled at his gaping friend then nudged him forward to welcome his girlfriend – if things went as planned, then not just girlfriend but fiancée starting from this night.

Affectionate words were exchanged; the young woman smiled humbly, not believing what she must have just heard, but Ron nodded and repeated it, making her smile more brightly. She kissed his cheek softly and lovingly and Harry, feeling like an intruder snapped his eyes back at the top of the stairs, knowing Ginny should be there soon as well.

And she was, looking confident in her dark blue short dress as she took stair after stair. Her flaming long hair cascaded on her shoulders and her self-assured gaze burned every wizard in the Common Room. She radiated power and she was perfectly aware of it, which probably made her look even stronger. Neville stepped next to her and held out a hand, she smiled softly and took it. He kissed it first, then her lips next. It wasn’t to show for every male around his claim on her, but to assure her of her exquisite beauty. Not that she needed any assertion.

Harry waited a couple of feet behind them until Hermione walked to him. She regarded him strictly and Harry spun, making a full turn. She laughed and hugged his arm. “You look dashing,” she beamed.

“And you look beautiful,” he said, which made Hermione blush slightly.

Ginny came too, slapping Harry’s arse lightly. “Look at you,” she grinned.

Harry bowed slightly, offered his other hand to her and winked, “Shall we?”

The ginger girl laughed, took Harry’s other arm and they strolled across the Gryffindor Common Room. As the portrait opened, he hopped out and helped the girls out too. He looked at his two mates grinning. “Are you coming, or am I taking both ladies to the ball?”

“I thought you like the black haired ones,” Ron grunted laughing then nudged Neville forward.

Harry took one more glance at the two gorgeous women behind him. One powerful and consuming like a Fiendfyre, the other calm and strong, unyielding and wise like the endless ocean. “It seems, I do,” Harry grinned back.

(◡‿◡✿) ******************* (✿◡‿◡)

He realized just how much he liked the black haired ones – one in particular – when he arrived in the Great Hall, leading their little group. The Main Entrance was wide open; two tiny, young house elves, who barely reached up to the Chosen One’s waist, stood on both sides, collecting coats. Their merry group, now expanded with Luna, who was wearing the most peculiar dress, Harry had ever seen, stayed close to the entrance all waiting for their family members. They were only a couple of feet away from door so Harry had an excellent view of the Headmaster of Hogwarts, who was busy welcoming all the guests. The smile on the wizard’s face was just a small one, more polite than happy but seemed genuine. He wore black as always, but this set of robes was made of different material than the usual. Not silk, surely, but it was soft to the eyes and looked great on the man. The moment Harry had spotted him, his belly made a weird jerk, signing appreciation. Much more appreciation that it had shown to the girls who were now showered with adorned glances by all the other witches and wizards.

Snape wasn’t beautiful. Not even handsome. Not even reasonably. But he was strong, like an old ebony, battered by the furious wind and destroying rain, yet still there through years and years. No storm or fire able to obliterate it and always finding a way to grow. His power was different than the blaze that radiated from Ginny. This power was old, mighty, simmering but always there beneath the surface, like roots of the enormous tree. Harry knew that in need this power would become fiercer, burning mercilessly through lands, forests and mountains. For years the onyx eyes seemed empty like an endless hole, yet now, as their gaze connected over the myriad of wizards and witches, it was full of something. Something untouchable, vast, compelling, drawing Harry closer and closer. For a second, the Gryffindor wanted to obey and follow the heady sensation until he could stand in front of the man but luckily, someone touched his arm just when he was about to put one leg in front of the other, which would have let to disastrous results.

Severus – it really should still be _Professor Snape_ , Harry softly chided himself – sensed how excited the young man became upon seeing him, surely the distinctive, dark smirk on his face was not to welcome his ex-student, Katie Bell, and her parents who came to visit the fourth member of their family, Coraline (first year, Gryffindor). Katie waved at him when she noticed Harry looking towards her, though the young man wasn’t watching her. He waved back when Katie walked past him and his friends with her sister’s hand in hers.

The familiar swarm of redheads followed the Bells and Ron stood on tiptoes to wave to his family.

“Oh hello, Ron, dear!” Molly called back smiling as Severus – _Snape,_ came the scolding voice again – took her heavy coat and welcomed them; this time, his smile was genuine, not bright or gleaming as Dumbledore’s would have been but soft and honest.

Their little gang pressed ahead, closer to the Entrance and a moment later, Harry could see bright yellow hair. Luna cried, “Dad!” and waved her arm. One of the elves took his coat and Xenophilius watched the little creature as if he never had seen one before.

“An elf, darling, have you seen her!” Xeno shouted over the people brightly smiling while his daughter tried to get through the crowd.

“Welcome to Hogwarts, Mr. and Mrs. Granger,” said a deep voice almost right next to Harry. The Chosen One had only a second to wonder how he ended up right next to the Headmaster, but then Hermione’s dad was shaking his hand, while Severus – the voice knew a lost cause when it saw one so it remained quiet this time – took Jane’s coat. Harry looked at the familiar faces, the Weasleys, Grangers, Lovegoods, all jolly, Christmas seeping into their hearts. All except one, with red hair, freckles and a heartbreakingly sad smile on his face. His brown eyes were on the ceiling but Harry knew he was looking beyond it. This was the first time George had come back here since the Battle of Hogwarts, where he had lost his other half forever.

He was about to go there but then a beautiful black woman stepped next to him, putting an arm around his waist. George looked down at her and smiled, mischief shined in his eyes now, not sadness. Angelina smiled back and kissed him then they, too, joined the Weasley family.

“You comin’, Harry?” Neville asked, his grandmother standing next to him like a proud hawk.

“Hello, Mrs. Longbottom,” The Saviour greeted the old lady. “You go ahead, Neville, I’m still waiting for someone.”

Neville nodded then let the crowd take him and his granny to the Great Hall.

Bright lights flashed outside and for a moment Harry thought they were lightning. It wasn’t relief he felt when the reporters and photographers of the Daily Prophet ambled in sparkling in fashionable robes and dresses. This was it, the moment this whole Christmas Gala was organized for. The journalists oozed in, humming like bees, snapping their cameras at everything and everyone.

Unwillingly, his gaze searched for Severus’ and when he found it, he smiled reassuringly.

Severus smiled idly and mouthed, “I hate them,” then turned towards, a wizard who, as Harry later found out, was Barnabas Cuffe, the editor of the Prophet. Harry laughed then returned to scanning the crowd, still waiting for _his_ family. Not that the Weasley’s weren’t his family, but there were two other people on this world now, who looked at him as their own – well... currently it was rather only just one and a half.

He heard the gasps, scared and filled with terror but he noticed the vivid blue hair first. Teddy giggled in his grandmother’s arms, who smiled timidly at the people around them. Her brown hair waved serenely in the mild wind outside and her long coat swept the ground at her feet. Snow covered her shoulders but Andromeda Tonks still looked effortlessly elegant. As she walked into the light, the wizards and witches finally realized it was not her evil sister who had returned and the tension ebbed away.

“Mrs. Tonks, allow me,” Severus smiled holding both his hands out. Harry gaped as the Headmaster took his godson in his arms, carefully as if Teddy would be a precious treasure. An elf removed the long coat by the time Harry got there. The Gryffindor hugged Andromeda delicately, almost blinded by the continuous flashes that never seemed to stop.

“Mr. Potter,” said Severus softly and Harry took the child from him. He stared into the black eyes and could swear the wizard in front of him was gleeful. He knew, a picture of them like this would start rumours all over the Wizarding World not just between the Castle’s ancient walls. Was this Snape’s plan?

Reporters called his name and he answered the question he heard out from the frenzy. Teddy enjoyed the attention and charmed the audience fast, changing his features from one second to the other. They pressed through the crowd – Teddy’s hair was long and lilac, while he had a nose resembling a certain Headmaster’s – and sighed relieved when they managed to shake off the journalists.

“Thanks for coming,” he beamed at Andromeda happily.

As they talked, Teddy climbed up onto his shoulders, loving the view from up there. When they walked around the Great Hall, many heads turned towards them but the Gryffindor disregarded them. His attention was focused on his godson and the boy’s grandmother. They sat down at their table and Mrs. Tonks was engulfed in a conversation with Mrs. Longbottom almost instantly. Harry kept Teddy in his lap as he sat beside her; he was glad he could finally see him after all these months.

They had chatted for a while, and then Harry took Teddy on a walk around the castle. He talked to him nonstop, retelling his years among these walls and the little boy was in awe as he took in the great castle. Ron, who was there too seemed nervous, almost agitated and Harry knew the reason why. The little black box was in the redhead’s pocket, waiting to be opened. When they met Hermione who was talking to Angelina and George, Harry gave his best friend a gentle shove. He watched as the bushy haired girl excused herself before she and Ron headed outside hand in hand. The other Weasley and his girlfriend returned to the Hall while someone called out Harry’s name.

Blond haired young man strolled towards them wearing elegant silver robes. Malfoy watched the child on the Gryffindor’s arm as if it were a centaur not a human. He frowned then tilted his head, then looked surprised when Teddy imitated his hair colour.

“So... you’re my cousin, eh?” Draco asked the kid, poking him softly with his pointing finger. He must have realized Teddy wasn’t going to bite because he became braver and tickled the young boy’s tummy, who giggled happily. The blond snorted then said with noncommittal shrug, “It could be worse, I guess.”

“Shut up, Malfoy,” Harry grunted but couldn't help it, he smiled too.

“I’ve seen you with Severus,” Draco smirked nudging his head towards the Entrance Hall. “You two should be more careful, you looked like a big happy family there.”

“I should be killing you for that candy,” Harry remarked after making sure no one was around them who could eavesdrop on their conversation.

“I hope you enjoyed it,” grinned the Slytherin then he added while waving his hand, “and don't worry, I was already told to stop. He should be telling you the same sometime tonight. Now that the school is exposed, I guess it’s just too much risk.” He took a deep breath then sneered. “What _the hell_ am I going to do in the next six months?”

“Don't you have a girlfriend?” The Gryffindor smirked.

“I have a fiancée, Potter. And funny you’ve asked, because I might just lose even her tonight.”

Teddy started fidgeting, so Harry put him down and they started walking amongst the singing armours. “No matter what happens, your parents won’t call off the wedding, will they?”

“Mine, no,” laughed the Malfoy heir. “Hers on the other hand...”

“Do you have a plan?” Harry asked watching his godson as he squatted down and started scratching the dirty, old floor with one if his fat little hands.

Draco was quiet for a second, looking ahead of himself. “Does improvising count as a plan?” He asked then, moving slowly ahead, and Harry realized who was coming towards them from the other side of the corridor.

Harry straightened up slowly and ushered Teddy towards the nearest door. “You’ll charm them, Draco,” said the Saviour encouragingly.

“Thanks, Harry,” answered the blond, his eyes stuck on his soon to be mother-in-law. Then, as if only realizing then what he had said, he looked at the Gryffindor sneering. “Bye, _Potter_.”

(◡‿◡✿) ******************* (✿◡‿◡)

The Gala officially began with the Headmaster’s speech. Snape thanked the Governors for understanding why he had opened the gates of Hogwarts for even the magicless people too; he talked about the importance of family and unity in times of darkness but even more in times of happiness when we could share that with each other. He thanked the Christmas Decoration Committee for giving the school this wonderful festive look and thanked the House Elves for their hard work in the kitchen. He encouraged the guests to approach him or the stuff with any question freely as their students do then wished them a pleasant evening and happy holidays. As he sat down and people all around the Hall clapped their hands, the band started playing a gentle, well known christmasy tune. As the dinner showed up on the tables, house elves appeared to everyone’s amazement, too. They looked like snowflakes in their Hogwarts uniform, white and spotless, all carrying around plates and drinks.

The noise was louder than during any other dinner Harry had had in this room. Cheerful and noisy, the whole Great Hall hummed with happiness and magic. The dashing fairies, the sparkling snow, the Christmas trees reeking of their pine scent and all the decorations were nothing compared to the sensation all these guests brought in the castle. As Harry looked around now, he realized this was the first time he had felt truly at home at Hogwarts this year. They had finally shed the last of the shadows of the battle; the darkness was finally overwritten by light and love. It was as if Hogwarts itself had after all these months healed at last.

He noticed the dark glance looking his way and smiling he watched as the Headmaster raised his glass. Harry followed the motion; the sparkling wine in his crystal glass bubbled merrily. Over the heads of many unsuspecting wizards and witches they tilted their glasses.

People started noticing the silent Headmaster and after several hushing noises everyone quieted. From his high chair Severus looked around, his face pale but his chin high and proud. Just like an old ebony tree on the top of a hill, looking down on its kingdom, Harry thought.

“To Christmas,” said the Headmaster then, and his deep baritone drummed through the ears of his audience.

“To Christmas,” echoed the whole of the Great Hall except one emerald eyed young man. He waited until the black eyes were back on him again.

“To you,” he said then softly.

(◡‿◡✿) ******************* (✿◡‿◡)

Hours went by and the First Open Christmas Ball was coming to its end. More and more people retreated home, mostly families with young children. Andromeda and Teddy left an hour ago, the boy sleeping on his grandmother’s shoulder. Harry had walked them out till the gates and promised to visit before New Year’s Eve. On his way back to the castle, the Saviour was almost overrun by Mrs. Malfoy. Shoving her arm through her fur coat, the furious looking woman rushed by the Gryffindor most likely not even recognizing him.

“Mrs. Malfoy?” Harry shouted after her and when recognizing his voice she stopped, the green eyed wizard rushed up to her.

“Is everything alright, Mrs. Malfoy?” asked the Boy Who Lived carefully.

“ _Alright_ , Mr. Potter?” She sneered and her fury resembled her sister’s. Not as insane, but close. “Nothing is alright, thanks to you. You _know_ you broke wizarding traditions and while you might have been brought up by Muggles, _my son_ was not! These traditions mean a lot to my family.”

Harry regarded the woman for a few seconds then gulped back his irritation.

“I don't understand why it is so terrible, that your son actually met his wife before you forced him to marry her. You should be happy that they actually like each other and don't tear out each other’s throats.”

“Nothing in your little shenanigan makes me happy, Mr. Potter.” She spat his name as if it were venom. “And consider yourself lucky, that I am not tearing _your_ throat out.”

“That will be enough, Narcissa,” a velvety voice spoke behind them. Harry didn't need to turn around to know who it was.

“I should have known your hands were in this too, Severus,” she hissed looking at the man with a contemptuous sneer. “You’ve been against it from the very beginning, after all.”

“Of course I was against marrying my godson off to a stranger,” he huffed as if the notion itself would be ridiculous. “Draco is finally happy and I admit that is worth more to me than the Malfoy name.”

“Traditions are still traditions, Severus. I do not expect you or Mr. Potter here to understand that.”

“Leave him out of this,” Snape said softly but the threat was evident to all ears present.

The blond woman raised an eyebrow but the Gryffindor was quicker to react.

“No,” he said, looking at the Headmaster first than back at the witch. “Don't leave me out of it. It’s my fault, or merit really that they know each other. If you want to blame someone, blame me, not Draco, and not even the professor. You won't call off the wedding, because you need the Greengrass family more than you care about traditions. Your husband is still in prison,” Harry said and Narcissa paled lightly – not because she was embarrassed but because she was angry, “and they can help to restore your name and your family. I remember when you helped me on these grounds,” Harry pointed towards the Forest and the witch’s gaze followed his outstretched hand, “just so you could get back to your son. You don't want to lose him over something like this.”

Narcissa visibly shrunk; mentioning the battle caused her arrogance to deflate.

“What does it matter that they know each other? They are happy and they will be married next summer. You’ll have your family back, Mrs. Malfoy, let me remind you that for some of us, that is not possible. Draco is not just the heir of the Malfoy name, he is also your _son_ , don't forget that.”

Narcissa’s eyes wandered blindly from one wizard to the other. Snape touched her arm softly and steered her back towards the castle. “Go to him, Narcissa. Go to your son and meet your daughter-in-law. She is a fine woman.”

She went up the stair as if in a trance, slowly, putting one leg after the other almost mechanically. When Kreacher appeared in front of her and offered to take her coat she stopped suddenly, waking up from her mesmerized state. Mrs. Malfoy looked back and nodded strictly at the two raven haired men, then tossed her fur at the old elf who disappeared with it.

“Draco owes you a lot,” Severus said softly.

Harry shook his head. “He doesn’t owe me anything.”

As if on beat, they both started walking towards the nearby bushes, behind which the Lake glimmered in the moonlit night. Hermione’s colourful lights shined all around them as the snow fell, covering the school ground in powdered sugar.

“I wish we were alone and I could dance with you,” the Gryffindor sighed overwhelmed by his professor’s presence once again. He couldn't help it; he needed to say the words before he would explode. “I kept thinking about you all evening.”

“I watched you,” came the answer – the tone dark, the voice trembling. “I couldn't take my eyes off of you.”

Harry laughed. “We’re horrible at this,” whispered the Chosen One. “How will we keep this a secret for six more months? I can barely hold back my hands.”

“Then don't,” Snape suggested as they reached a part where the bushes were so thick, no one could see through them.

And the Gryffindor reached out. He grabbed the man by his robes and pulled him to his lips. He kissed hungrily already knowing this wouldn’t be enough. He needed more – they both needed more, what more, _everything_. Stroking wildly with his tongue the Saviour kissed his lover as hands sneaked around his waist and caressed his back. It was demanding and burning and bruising while it lasted but it couldn't last long and when students went by near them laughing cheerfully, they parted stepping away but still unable to let go. Green and black eyes connected and Harry caressed the lean man’s side, while panting fast.

“I’ve wanted to do that all evening,” he gasped, trying to even his breathing. “Ever since I saw you at the Entrance Hall.”

Severus, always the more careful one, looked around before he nodded agreeing. “Will you pay me a visit tonight?”

He was blushing, Harry noticed with amusement, although it might have been only the fresh, cold air that burned his own cheeks as well. But whatever it was, it coloured the pale skin and now it was almost rosy. Fingers caressed the hair on his nape but as he silently acquiesced with a soft bob of his head, they tightened on his skin and pulled him in another searing kiss.

“Fuck... Harry...” Severus moaned desperately into his mouth, pressing their bodies closer. Harry knew, whatever happened between them that night, it would be intense like any other aspect of their relationship. His body keened, _lusted_ after this man.

This time it was the Chosen One who pulled away but he needed all his Gryffindor determination to do it. If he didn't do so now, he wouldn’t be able later. He straightened Severus’ robes, flattening the tiniest lines, he said to himself. He was most definitely _not_ just caressing the wizard’s swiftly rising and falling chest.

Severus closed his black eyes and swallowed firmly. Just as Harry, he needed to calm himself, to suppress his needs so that they could survive the rest of the evening without incident. They headed back inside the castle, strolling next to one another without a word, keeping the distance but longing to reach out and touch.

They stepped through the doors of the Great Hall, Severus letting Harry pass first; his guiding touch on the Gryffindor’s waist softer than silk went unnoticed. People were laughing around the dance floor, no one paid them even a fleeting glance and they were grateful for it. They parted with a last glance and both went to their own table.

Harry found his empty so he turned towards the dancing couples only now realizing what caused the laughter. Most of the couples were same-sex. Madame Maxime was leading Minerva, almost spinning her in the air, while George had his hands around Neville, looking at the young hero with the strictest gaze Harry had ever seen. It took only a second for the redhead to break and he laughed, while Neville lightened up too now that he didn't need to be afraid of sibling revenge. Harry walked closer, watching his friends: Hermione and Astoria, Ginny and Luna, Ron and Malfoy – of all people, Hagrid and Professor Flitwick and many others, all dancing merrily. Cameras snapped but everyone just laughed indifferent to the flashes.

The ginger and the blond stopped instantly when they noticed Potter.

“What’s going on,” Harry asked the second Malfoy arrived close enough.

“Relax, mate,” reacted Ron.

“You promised you wouldn’t ruin this night,” the Gryffindor warned him.

“I’m not ruining it, Potter,” Draco smirked. “Everyone is having fun,” with that the maddening blond grasped Harry’s hand and pulled him onto the floor as well. Before Harry could say an indignant word, or even just pull out his wand, his hands were on the crazy young man: one in his hand, the other on the shoulder.

“What the f-“ Harry hissed. The crowed swept them away and he was dancing all of a sudden with no other than Draco Bloody Malfoy.

“Calm down, Potter. Someone will be here in a second demanding your hand, if he still has even a miniscule of intelligence left, which given he’ll be asking for _your_ hand, I highly doubt.”

Not understanding a word of what the wizard just said and still rather perplexed of the sudden happenings, Harry just stared at the Slytherin as questioningly as he could. And let himself be lead.

“This isn’t a prank, Potter,” explained the Malfoy heir. “This is me, offering you truce. A, shall we say, parting gift, something to remember in the next months when we will be doing nothing else just study and be good and exemplary and incredibly tedious and bored.”

Harry still wasn’t sure he understood why on Merlin’s beard was Hermione waltzing next to her with Professor Sprout. Then a hand appeared on Draco’s shoulder, long and narrow fingers clasped into the silver grey robes and they stopped moving. With a last nod, as if thanking Harry for something, the blond stepped away and a tall dark man took his place.

“This is reckless,” stated Severus as he placed a hand on Harry’s shoulder blade.

“This is madness,” breathed the Gryffindor as he clasped the man’s shoulder.

“This is insane,” both of them whispered as their hands enfolded and they followed the other couples into the depth of the floor. The music was soft and slow, the people were laughing around them, dresses twirled, robes snapped in the swift turns. The lighting was dimmed, just a couple of candles and Hermione’s colourful lights twinkled above them but no one needed light to follow the beat. Endless ink black gaze watched the Gryffindor Golden boy, warm and intense, but all Harry could understand that thanks to some Christmas miracle – or really just a blond Christmas elf – he was dancing with Severus at last.

The music changed into faster waltz. His heart beating a much more rapid rhythm, Harry danced not noticing that the scenery around them started to change slowly, too. First came Astoria and Draco, followed by Ron and Hermione with her new ring sparkling on her finger, but not brightly enough to over-shine her loving smile. Arthur and Molly, Ginny and Neville, Hagrid and Olympe, real couples waltzed with them, all seemingly moving to the same choreography as the one that led them on step by step. Turning and turning, dancing in circles yet never getting even slightly dizzy, Harry kept his eyes on the endless gaze and let his partner lead him in this grandiose and vibrant yet beautiful music.

Their fast tempo, the continuous turning washed away the faces around them and soon the ball turned into a masquerade with their true selves hidden among the other mysterious dancers. Violins played soft and playful, trumpets blared and cymbals clapped and they revolved around the dance floor in an endless chase. Drumsticks came down hard on plastic and Severus let go for a moment, spinning Harry around his own axis but he moved forwards already, the dynamic beat carrying them onwards and though they didn't get any closer, the Gryffindor had never felt this intimate with anyone.

As quick as it came and as grand as it was, it ended in a heartbeat and emptiness filled their hearts. Bent slightly back, holding on tightly to Severus, Harry watched as vigilance and caution returned to the black eyes. A sigh vibrated through all the dancers and he suspected he wasn’t the only one feeling lost for a second, even though his right hand was still held by his partner. The Gryffindor Golden Boy didn't know where to head next, he was like a ballerina in a music box: without the melody he couldn't move.

They straightened and the Headmaster, holding their joined hands up slightly, bowed in front of him. Guests left the floor, but Harry still returned the gesture, grasping into the last of the straws before this last dance ended.

But as everything, their time on the dance floor was over and so was the First Open Christmas Ball in Hogwarts. However before Severus let go of the greened eyed young man’s hand, his thumb brushed the soft skin again. He walked past the still rapidly breathing wizard and whispered so that no one would hear him, “Come after one.”

And at that moment, as excitement rushed through his whole body, the Gryffindor Golden Boy realized, _their_ dance was still far from over.

(◡‿◡✿) ******************* (✿◡‿◡)

Hogwarts emptied quickly after the Ball had ended. Witches and wizards took their family members and left either with portkeys or through the Floo system. Apparition was only possible out of Hogwarts Grounds still, but many chose that option as the night was still quiet and beautiful and they had no problem with a small stroll to reach the Main Gates. The snow fell in huge flakes and after the drinks and the Castle’s warmness, it didn't even seem so cold outside. Carriages came for the Muggles to take them to Hogsmeade, where the Hogwarts Express surely awaited them in the midst of mist and smoke. But the Knight Bus too was there, waiting for those who wished to be home sooner rather than later. Some wizards, like the Weasleys decided to help the magicless people and apparated them straight in front of their homes. Ron and Hermione were the ones who took home Mr. and Mrs. Granger, both looked still awestruck from all the magic they had witness. They looked like children as they turned their backs on the great castle, innocent smile on their faces. They both beamed at their daughter, proud of their little witch. Harry hugged them goodbye too then stayed at the gates watching as the swarm of redheads and the Grangers disappeared one by one.

Not far from him, Headmaster Snape – Severus, whispered the voice now impatiently – was directing some Ministry officials who helped the Muggles home. Folding his arms against the cold, Harry watched as the professor snapped at a man, twice his size for most likely making a rude comment. Snape raised an eyebrow and the Golden Boy had to admit, he looked intimidating. The man too must have thought so because he shrunk slightly under the harsh gaze and nodded submissively. Severus – the voice giggled in Harry’s head now – looked around searching for anyone in need of some help. No one seemed to be in any distress at the moment and obsidian eyes connected with green over the heads of many people. Snape rolled his eyes, he seemed exhausted at that moment and Harry smiled at him kindly. He couldn't wait to hold the man in his arms, take off those heavy robes and make the wizard relax.

Well. Not relax, to be precise – there would be some exercise involved, Harry grinned to himself as he turned towards Hogwarts and slowly walked back inside.

As one o’clock drew closer Harry felt more and more excited and restless in the warm Common Room. Not many people decided to stay for the holidays, even less were still around and not in bed. Not that the Chosen One had eyes for anyone – or really, anything – besides the old grandfather clock in the corner. At forty-five sharp, he donned his Invisibility Cloak and ran out of the tower. The Fat Lady’s cry of “Who is it?” followed him but he didn't care. He just ran and ran, until he stood in front of a stone statue with a wildly beating heart.

The gargoyle sensed him and it moved away however, his stoic marble face showed a grin this time. Harry expected a derisive word or maybe some encouragement, but nothing came. The gargoyle, like the castle itself, remained utterly silent.

As he walked up the stairs, every step set a new doubt in his mind. What was he doing? Meeting Snape in the middle of the night? His own Headmaster! In the man’s office? He had just helped _Snape_ – Severus begged the voice inside him but he stayed strong – _Snape_ regain his office, his temporary leave forgotten by the Board of Governors after this successful evening! Was he really about to ruin that all by starting a surely illegal relationship with Snape? Was this even a start of a relationship or just something more... carnal?

By that last thought he arrived to the top of the spiralling staircase. His doubts seemed to have been frozen in his mind as he saw the heavy wood door stood slightly ajar. A spear of orange light reached to the tip of his shoe like a guiding sign. He moved slowly towards the door, and then placed his hand softly on it. The wood was unexpectedly cold against his fingers, though the air in the entrance wasn’t all that cool. He slowly pushed open the door and the orange light suddenly filled his vision.

Severus was there, right behind his desk, his shoulder propped against the dark frame of the window, staring outside, and waiting. It was clear, when he gave a long sigh that the Golden boy wasn’t the only one having doubts. Emerald eyes roamed the room he had gotten to know so well in the past years. Former Headmasters and Headmistresses watched him back. There was tension in the room, almost tangible as he shed the Cloak. Leaning his back against the door, he closed it and let his body rest against the cool wood.

“Good evening, professor,” said the Gryffindor, his eyes not on the dark Headmaster but on twinkling blue eyes above him. There was determination in his own green ones, a certain mutinous defiance.

Severus finally turned around and it didn't escape him where the Chosen One was currently looking.

“Mr. Potter,” said the Slytherin softly to draw the other’s attention to his person.

Harry’s gaze shifted immediately, but he didn't move from the door. Snape on the other hand stepped away from the window. He didn't go far; he just went around his desk and leant against it, crossing his arms on his chest. That moment, the black haired man looked like an impregnable fortress. Stern, defensive, lips thin, jaw tight.

“I don't...” The Saviour had to clear his throat to sound human and not like a troll. “I’m... glad today went so well. I’m glad you can keep your job. That’s really good.” He said carefully, his eyes wandering warily on the portraits over them.

“You may speak freely, Mr. Potter. My predecessors had been eavesdropping on many of my conversations with Draco, who, as you may have guessed, had not been this cautious.” Severus told him. “They are aware of my interest.”

Harry nodded. That meant they didn't know about the Great Hall and the Infirmary, just that they were both considering their options.

“I don't want to get you fired,” stated the Saviour firmly. “I can wait if this means you can lose your position or worse.” Harry shrugged. “It won’t be easy. I mean, I’m already of age and I only came back because I wanted to – if I stopped attending tomorrow, I’d still probably be enlisted in the Auror Forces. That would be a temptation I would need to... overcome, of course. With many others. But I _could_ do it.”

Albus stood up from his chair in his portrait. The Slytherin looked at the old wizard. “Just as I predicted. Always the one willing to self-sacrifice.” Snape moved forward and as he closed in on the Chosen One, green eyes followed the old silver haired former Headmaster usher the other pictures of wizards and witches from their portraits. “The problem is, Potter,” Severus whispered darkly when he stood in front of Harry, “that I am _not_ a Gryffindor. Self-sacrifice is not in my nature. As I see it, and hence as Albus and all the others will see it, you are a grown man, destroyer of the greatest evil of this century. A mere human like me will not control you. If you want to be in my office, you will be whether I want it or not.”

He softly placed a hand on the door and loomed over the Saviour. Though the gesture was soft, his presence still felt intimidating to the young man though he suspected the pressure wasn’t directed at him but at the once living professors who were now slowly edging out of their frames.

Snape watched from the corner of his eyes as Albus, the last of the portraits, slithered out with a final glance at them. Then he turned his intense gaze back on the Chosen One. Harry was breathing fast, confused, hopeful and excited all at the same time. He nodded to the former Potions Master to continue.

“Whatever happens beyond this door will not leave this office and will not happen anywhere else just here. There will be rules,” the headmaster listed. “You cannot stay the night, unless your absence will not be detected. You will talk to no one, _no one_ , about this until you have left the school and even after that, you will not mention when exactly this had started. The Board must never know that we were having this affair while your education was still taking place under my supervision. You are not to-“

The deep voice faded out as Harry slowly comprehended what Snape just insinuated. _After_ his education was over. _After_ he left the school. It seemed the Gryffindor Golden Boy wasn’t the only one thinking long-term here.

“Shh,” hissed the brave young man, placing his finger in front of thin lips that moved under his touch for a moment longer. Then they stopped more astounded than ever. Harry disregarded the thought that most likely this was the first time he had ever interrupted his professor. “We’re alone,” he grinned then. As he removed the fingers, he caressed the soft lips. He watched almost in awe as they opened again to form words.

“And most importantly, the rule you _must_ follow above all,” Snape breathed, and Harry gulped heavily, his eyes still stuck on the lips he wanted to taste again, though he knew he should be looking up into endless pools of obsidian. “Be absolutely certain of what you want before you move even one more muscle. If we cross this bridge, it will be a different world, and we cannot come back from there.”

The Chosen One was, in fact more certain, than he had been all day or probably in his entire life. He extended his hands and his palms shifted on flat abdomen. He moved away from the door and closer to Snape, overcoming that immense distance that still stretched between them: a foot and a half now reduced to just a half.

The Saviour of the Wizarding World whimpered as he curved his body towards the man he needed to feel more than air itself.

“Let me make myself clear, Potter,” groaned the older wizard, voice deep like the rasping of an old ebony’s trunk.  “Be sure wh-“

Harry leaned forward and kissed Severus softly before he could say anything else. The voice inside his head purred, his groin yearned, his body trembled as he held the thin lower lip between his own. Snape leaned away, determined to make the Chosen One choose wisely.

“If you change your mind tomorrow morning or next week or next month I will not be here for you anymore, do you understand? The portraits are willing to overlook this because you are of age and you are Harry Fucking Potter. But the rest of the world will not. And they are not going to come after you, Potter, but me. The moment this becomes public, my position will be at risk. I’m willing to take that risk only if you are absolutely certain about this.”

Harry considered what was just said, knowing that there was some other meaning behind Severus’ words. This wasn’t just about doubt of starting a relationship, Snape was a headmaster too. He needed powerful allies to stay in his position and Harry would be one. The Chosen One was also perfectly aware of his professor’s nature. Holding grudges and being cruel to people who had hurt him wasn’t an alien conception to the man.

“What you’re saying... that’s bullshit,” said the Saviour firmly. “No matter what happens between us, I’ll always respect you and therefore help you keep your position.”

“You no doubt will, but I will not be able or willing to work with you,” stated the former spy.

“We make it work,” smiled the young man, but Snape wasn’t convinced.

“I mean it, Potter. You know of my intentions, you know what I want to do to you,” groaned the headmaster wildly. “I will suck your cock, I will lick your arse and I will fuck you ‘til you scream and that will change our relationship. We can still chose to disregard the attraction,” Snape let out a small laughter as if not even he believed that to be true. “And stay as we are now: in mutual respect, someday even friendship.”

Harry had to laugh at that, though he knew that would not help his situation. He grasped into the heavy robes more strongly now. “You think I can just... what? Forget that I want you? Ignore the need to touch you when you’re close to me? Shut out the desire to be held by you?” Asked the Chosen One, his tone low and dark. “No fucking way, Severus. I want this and I want it to last. You know that.”

“Do I?” Inquired the headmaster but the confession seemed to have softened him. There was a playful tug at the corner of his lips.

“You bloody well should,” replied the Saviour huskily as he leant into the older wizard’s lips once again. Snape was the one though who kissed him, hungrily and wildly, whatever he had managed to hold back until now was suddenly unleashed. Harry was crushed against the door, excitement overflowing his whole body. Hands were on his neck first, then one slithered down onto his shoulder, grasping it, while the other shifted into his hair. He felt the firm tug as five fingers entangled with his messy curls and pulled his head back to make it easier for the Slytherin to thrust his tongue in his mouth.

It was good, not just good, amazing. Severus’ tongue lapped against his own, twisted around it then explored his mouth as if this would be its only chance to do so. Breathless, the Saviour leaned away, drawing his swollen lips over stubbly jaw and piercing cheekbone.

“I want you,” whispered the young man, his lips against the older wizard’s ear. He breathed out the words in a low tone as if revealing a deep secret, not in fact stating something they were both very well aware of. Snape pressed closer in response, and Harry said, “I need you,” as he licked the rim of the shell. Severus’ groan, deep and ardent, like the ones he received before the holidays, sent a wild tremor down the Gryffindor’s body. He took a deep breath hoping for an anchor, some composure, or really just a moment of peace where he could find out what to do next.

Nothing like that came because he inhaled the former spy’s scent. Severus Snape, ex-Death Eater, double agent, snarky and bitter smelled like damn Christmas. Pines and ginger and cinnamon and Harry knew it was only because Snape had visited the House Elves many times during the day, overseeing the kitchen preparations but the smell, so nice and warm and fresh, still made him chuckle. He dragged his nose along the long neck and the collar bones hoping to find the aroma that was truly Snape and nothing else. But no luck, the elegant dress robes had already taken in the Christmas scent.

His fingers moved like tiny spiders as they undid button after button. He brushed the robe aside, not even caring to take it off the man, but the headmaster pushed it off with a shrug of his shoulders. Scorching black eyes followed the Saviour as his fingers and lips moved lower and lower. The Chosen One’s palm caressed Severus’ chest, fingers dashing over his ribcage. Harry pressed his face to the shirt clad chest and inhaled again but the Christmas scent was still present.

“Not enough,” he murmured keenly as his hands returned to the other set of buttons. He tugged out the dress shirt from Snape’s pants, his moves more and more impatient. When he was finished unbuttoning it, he pushed that away too while Severus watched him with swiftly rising chest. The Gryffindor knew somehow that the man was smiling when the Saviour buried his nose in the slightly hairy chest. He was closer now, the Christmas scent was faint, and there was something else but not enough to be identified.

So he licked the smooth skin in order for better analysis. He dragged his wet tongue on the salty skin as if it would be the most delicious ice cream. Scraping it with his canine, he left behind a wet trace as he skimmed the warm chest then he reached a nipple and the former spy let out a gasp even before Potter took the sensitive little nub between his lips and slowly slipped the tip of his tongue over it, playing with it, teasing the older wizard just as he always did.

When the Chosen One dropped to his knees, Severus looked all of a sudden helpless. Even though Harry was the one on his knees, the older wizard looked so keen, so in need that Harry almost felt sorry for him and reached out to give him what he desired so much, forgetting about what he himself was looking for. Instead of his hands, he pressed his wide open mouth to Snape’s arousal. The man above him groaned and staggered slightly, his eyes closed, his head tilted back. Harry mouthed the firm cock that was still covered by many layers, but even so, a part of the _scent_ managed to escape. This was it, he was close.

He quickly unbuckled the belt, unbuttoned the pants and pulled down the zipper. More eager than ever, fiery onyx eyes watched him as if he was some kind of prey. But he wasn’t the prey here; he wasn’t the one who would be devoured in a second.

The Gryffindor Golden Boy lifted his mouth only until he pulled the flies out of the way and reached inside a shaking hand to fold it around a piercing erection. The hum of Severus’ harsh gasp, which sounded dangerously like “Harry,” was muffled by the echo of the young man’s own furiously beating heart as he pulled the hardness out. Severus’ shaft was dark and lean, just like the man himself and it twitched between his fingers, or maybe his fingers twitched around it, Harry hardly cared.

He could finally feel the scent, taste it even, he realized when he gave an experimental lick to the glistening glans and scooped up a small pearly white drop. Both the Saviour and the Headmaster groaned then Harry opened his mouth a bit wider and slowly slithered the hardness between his lips.

“Fucking hell,” moaned the professor over Harry and his tongue gave smaller licks to the lower part of thick member while he was trying to draw it deeper and deeper down his throat. Snape had to lean with one of his hands against the door to steady himself, while the other grasped into the unruly, raven hair. “Merlin, Harry... That’s... fucking – _ah_!”

The young man hummed in response as he finally took the cock in his mouth as deep as he possibly could. He could feel wiry hair tickle his lips and Merlin, his nose was buried in the scent so not like Christmas, but much more darker, more muskier but still fresh, salty, ocean-like. Harry loved it and he groaned deeply when it filled his nose and brain and mouth, it was simply all over his senses. He moved his head slowly at first. He pulled back lightly, while sucking the warm flesh in his mouth and Severus swore again.

The young Gryffindor felt like laughing as he bobbed his head again and again and looked up, trying to see his professor coming apart by ever lustful movement the Chosen One did. He reflected again on how amazing the other man looked. His usually pale skin was now coloured by the candles – orange hue brought a healthier look to it and a thin layer of sweat covered it, making it glimmer lightly. The scars covered the smooth surface like white ink illustrating an old story. Harry reached up with his free hand and caressed the toned abdomen, his fingers roaming the panting chest, tweaking nipples. With his mouth still tightly enclosed around the hard cock, he drew sharp cries from the older man. He loved hearing them – so eager and pleading – yet the man looming over the Saviour still all but radiated power. He fondled Snape’s bollocks with his other hand and the Slytherin fell forward, his hand giving up on him. He was now leaning on his forearm, his head pressed to the cool wood, his black eyes like fire burning Harry as they followed each end every movement the young man committed.

All of a sudden, Severus couldn't help himself anymore. Grasping into the hair at Harry’s nape, he let his hips thrust forward. Small, fast prods at first, then they became more languid and prolonged, slowly fucking Harry’s mouth, whose saliva was now dribbling out of his mouth but he wouldn’t take his lips away from the heavy cock. It was maddeningly erotic as he watched Snape hold on to the last of his control and keep up the lazy thrust while he was visibly falling apart.

“God... stop... I...” cried Severus, pushing his head back groaning but not stopping with the unhurried strokes. Harry felt the wizard’s whole body tremble and he grasped the base of the long cock just in time to stop the Slytherin from coming.

“I know you said you will be coming deep inside me, but you never said where,” said the young man, his voice huskier than ever. “I wouldn’t mind finishing this...” He added with a grin as he drew his thumb over the corners of lips, cleaning it. “I’d love to taste all of you.”

Severus grabbed his arm and pulled the Chosen One up by it. “You will have the chance,” murmured the Headmaster, crushing his lips to Harry’s. The kiss was deep and raw and incredibly sinful when Harry thought about where his lips were just a moment ago.

Firm hands roamed the Saviour’s body and cupped his arse. They gripped the half globes and pulled him to tall body and he could feel the long cock poking his hip, hard and almost piercing. He came up for air just in time to see his professor pull out his wand and point it at Harry. The next moment a familiar sensation rushed through the young man as he stood, once again, stark naked in front of Headmaster Snape.

“How long have you been planning on doing this?” Asked the Gryffindor while Severus took off the rest of his clothing.

Hungry gaze shifted on Harry’s body, taking in every scar, every hollow, and protruding bone. It lingered for a couple of moments longer on his erection then it returned to the green eyes. “Ever since I first saw you like this. You cannot even imagine the temptation.”

Potter smirked, moving closer brushing his body against another one. “I think I can,” whispered the young man seductively. “Even back then, I wanted to kneel in front of you and take your cock in my mouth,” he said then, his eyes fixed on the mentioned member. “Lick it, taste it, suck it...”

“You seem to have a slight obsession with my cock, Harry,” replied the Slytherin with a grin, his hand stroking the thick flesh. Harry groaned as his eyes followed the movement of the long fingers.

“Maybe,” admitted the Saviour then moved past Snape, looking around the smaller office. When he saw the large desk, he had sat next to so many times, he grinned mischievously and stepped towards it. Upon reaching it, he placed both palms on the middle of the table top. He bent over the old wood that must have seen many things but not what was to come. The Saviour looked back, wiggling his arse lightly.

“You wanton little creature,” remarked the Headmaster, eyeing the display.

 “Are you coming?” Asked the brave Gryffindor, giving a small slap to his buttock.

“I definitely will be in a couple of minutes,” came the answer from the dark man. Severus moved right behind him and one of his hands was immediately sliding on the young man’s bare back. The other, holding the black wand was making flicks and brushes in the air. Harry watched as important parchments flew back into the drawer, inkpots moved away and books returned to their shelves.

Snape’s left hand slid over his arse, pulling a cheek away. His thumb brushed over puckered skin and Harry shuddered wildly.

“And now, Mr. Potter,” started Severus with tone smooth and low, arousing the younger man even more. “Can you recall, what I told you after my godson made your clothing disappear?”

Harry thought, really hard, but all he knew at the moment that the hand on his arse wasn’t moving, the fingers weren’t pushing inside him, though they should. Severus kissed his nape and his shoulders sweetly but Harry wasn’t fooled. Something Slytherin was coming. “No,” he gasped.

“I told you to be careful, before Draco pulls the more-“

“Intimate tricks,” Harry finished. Oh yes, he remembered _that_.

“You asked what can be more intimate than spelling away someone’s clothes, is that correct, Harry?” Severus asked and the young felt something slide over the cleft of his arse. He tried to look back but he couldn't see anything.

“Yes,” the Saviour answered carefully as he braced himself on the desk.

“Well,” Snape whispered and Harry could definitely feel a pointy thing at the rim of his arsehole. “How about this?” With that, the professor pushed something thin and long up the Chosen One’s bottom.

Harry cried, not in the least from pain. “Is that your wan- _oh God_! Holy fucking-! Merlin!” The Saviour could feel, _literally_ _feel_ the magic inside him prickling as Snape thought the nonverbal spell. A moment later the wand was withdrawn and thrown on the desk next to the inkpot and quills.

A finger replaced the thin wood and pressed into him almost effortlessly. “For your education, that was a lubricating spell, applied directly at the area that needed to be lubricated,” explained the professor.

Harry steadied himself and pressed back lightly. His cock was twitching as he answered, “That was bloody... arousing.”

Severus leant to his ears and skimmed the edge of it with the tip of his tongue before he said, “If you like having objects up your arse we can experiment with something less magical next time.”

Harry looked over his shoulder and grinned. Wet strands of ink black hair framed his face. “How about we arrange to have your cock up there before we move on to other objects, hm?”

“You cheeky brat,” Severus laughed pushing a third finger inside, “have you not learned your lesson this forenoon?”

The Saviour grunted loudly as he felt the fingers stretch his muscles. “When do I ever learn from one lesson,” he groaned, rolling his hips.

“How true,” laughed Severus, curving his fingers slightly inside Harry’s hot canal. A sharp jet of intense pleasure shot through the young body and the Saviour cried lustfully.

“ _There_!” panted the Chosen one. “Oh god... please... _there_...again!”

“Such eloquence in these moments will not help you, Harry. I need clear instructions,” came the smug reply as the three fingers brushed the Gryffindor’s sensitive prostate again.

Harry keened, his breathing almost only sharp intakes of air, his hands fisting on the table top. “Fuck me,” he ordered weakly, “Severus... fuck... fingers... whatever.”

Another laugh was issued behind him as fingers grasped The Gryffindor’s hip. Severus pressed his whole body against the young man, his hard cock, already wet with lube, pulsed against Harry’s buttock. “Fingers? Or you want my cock?” Asked the velvety, lush voice, while the three fingers relentlessly massaged the little nub of hypersensitive tissue deep inside the Chosen one.

“Cock... ah fuck...! Fuck me... with your cock... _please_!” Pleaded the young wizard coming apart, his own member straining for attention too, weeping to be touched. “Just get the fuck inside me,” he shouted lost in desperate desire.

First Harry felt the lips on his shoulder curve and then press a small kiss into his heated skin. Then Severus removed his hand, grasped the base of his cock and positioned himself at the entrance. Even the headmaster couldn't help it, he cried ardently as the head of his cock pressed through the tight rim of the young wizard’s arsehole.

“Bloody fucking-“ Snape groaned as he grasped Harry’s hips and started pushing further in with slow strokes.

The young tried his best to relax and let the hard erection slide deeper inside him but the thought itself, the very fact that Severus Snape, ex-Death Eater, former double agent, previous Head of Slytherin House was fucking his Gryffindor arse made him so close to climaxing that he had to clench down with all his muscles not to.

“Relax,” Severus breathed against his ear and moaned wildly.

“Not helping,” groaned the Chosen One pushing his ass back. “I’m going to... fuck... I’m going to come.”

Snape thrust forward harder, clearly an involuntarily move, a reaction to the lustfully moaned confession but it pushed Harry immediately to the very edge. But Severus, always the one to think fast and act even faster, grasped the Gryffindor’s red, throbbing cock at the base strongly enough to make his young lover cry out with a mix of pain and pleasure. They stood like this for a couple more minutes; their bodies weren’t moving just Severus’ hand caressed the shaking wizard in front of him softly.

“I think, I’m good...” Harry moaned then. “Do it... do it now. And fast.”

Before he even uttered the last word, Severus shoved fully inside him, his arm across Harry’s chest, steadying the raven haired man.

The Chosen One cried out, a soft burst of laughter breaking out of him in gasps as he finally felt the long shaft filling up his insides fully. Lips descended on his nape again, Severus was smiling too. He turned his head looking for those luscious lips. The Slytherin slid his palm up on Harry’s chest until he reached his sweaty neck. His fingers tightened there as he made the Saviour arch his body back slightly and turned his head even more aside. Harry, green eyes closed but mouth open, waited for the kiss but what he got was a tongue sliding slowly inside his mouth. Potter groaned when he sensed that the slow stroking thrusts of the cock in his arse were in rhythm with the wet tongue sliding in out of his mouth.

“I want to fuck you hard, Harry,” whispered Severus between their slow kisses. “I want to see you scratch lines into this wood. I want to see you leave your mark here the same way you left it on me.”

A shouted “Yes,” was all Harry could press out before he was bent forcefully on the tabletop. He leaned on his forearm as Snape started fucking him in earnest. As he grasped into the edge of the table, the clumsy Saviour knocked over a pot of ink and the black substance poured all over the desk but he couldn't afford to care. Hands came down on both his side as the firm body behind him smashed against his. Snape palmed right into the thick onyx substance but it didn't seem to bother him for even a moment. Harry almost fell completely over the desk from the hard, prolonged pounding before Severus grasped one of his wrist and given he was leaning over Harry, he practically nailed the young man there. The Saviour grasped the man’s arm with his left, realizing only too late that meant covering it in black too. He watched almost mesmerized as the smooth glistening ink trickled down on the hairy arm, and concealed the faintly still visible Dark Mark.

Arms covered in black ink, Harry turned back, hoping to see the ink black eyes. Severus pressed his head to the Chosen One’s forehead, pearls of sweat gleaming on both of them. Something tickled Harry’s shoulder and seeing it only from the corner of his eyes he thought for a moment he managed to get some ink there too but it was just wet, raven hair. The thought was gone, his mind, in fact, was gone, when Severus found his prostate again and aimed his thrusts so that the head of his cock would brush against the sensitive spot with ever faster, deep strokes.

Shouting incoherently but loudly, the Saviour begged for release. Severus moved his inky palm over Harry’s smooth chest, drawing a line over the nicely toned young body. The drawing was short and rather abstract and ended when the Slytherin grasped the Savour’s hard cock and started stroking it with the same maddening tempo with which he was fucking the glorious arse of the glorious Boy Who Lived.

And Harry came right away. With a last cry of “Severus!” he spurted his seed onto the seemingly depthless pool of blackness as his body and his senses were overtaken by blinding lust and excitement and satisfaction. All his muscles tensed at the same moment and he fell forward onto the tabletop, Severus following him grunting his name and shooting his hot come deep inside the Saviour of the Wizarding World, just as he had promised.

They lay on each other for a few minutes, panting and not comprehending the world around them. Then Severus slid out slowly and Harry groaned one last time. The green eyed wizard straightened himself, his knees buckling like a fresh born deer’s. Severus pulled him to his chest, not that he was in any better shape but together they managed to stay upright.

Obsidian eyes looked over them, and then an elegant eyebrow rose. “We need to get that off you,” groaned the man but it seemed to Harry that he wasn’t completely against the idea of seeing the young Gryffindor covered in something other than clothes. Harry too looked down on himself. His forearms and one side of his front too were covered in the black ink and it was still streaming down on one of his legs. Severus looked only slightly cleaner. Some of the ink from Harry stained his chest too when they previously helped each other to their feet but his arms were just as bad as Harry’s. The dark ink stood in contrast with the pale skin and Harry liked the view very much indeed.

He smiled teasingly, and touched his palm to the fresh ink on the table, before he dragged it across Severus’ chest. The older wizard watched as the Gryffindor draw five long lines down his torso. He looked pleased when Harry left a handprint just over his groin. “Mine,” stated the young.

“Get in the bathroom right now,” ordered the professor in a deep husky voice.

Harry snapped up his gaze from his mark and watched the other surprised for a moment.

“Wait, there’s a bathroom here.” He looked around expecting a door to suddenly pop up but the well known office remained the same.

Severus laughed though. “Of course there is. Right next to the bedroom.”

Reproachful green eyes stared into the endless onyx orbs.

“There’s a _bed_? Then why on earth did we do it on the desk?” Harry asked not quite able to bring himself to be angry.

Severus waved with his hand nonchalantly as he walked to one of the bookcases and pulled out a yellow, tattered volume. “So that every day, when you’re not here, I can sit in my chair and remember how you came on my desk, screaming my name,” answered the headmaster, as the bookcase moved away, revealing a comfortable looking sitting room behind it.

“Oh,” Harry grinned smugly, strutting towards his lover. “Not that I was complaining.”

“Of course,” Severus smiled closing the entrance behind them.

 (◡‿◡✿) ******************* (✿◡‿◡)

Something pecked The Saviour’s hand and to-whood into his ears. That was most certainly not Headmaster Snape or if it was, the man had some weird kinks. He opened his eyes looking for his glasses. The owl next him hooted again. There was a small pocket attached to its leg and a wet, slightly still snowy Daily Prophet right next to it on the nightstand. Its arrival wasn’t a mystery anymore.

The Chosen One’s first instinct was to search his pocket for money but he quickly realized he was stark naked.

The owl hooted again, this time a bit more impatiently.

“First drawer,” said a sleepy voice next to him, deeper and more croaked than any time before, counting in the times when it was lust filled and seductive on purpose. Harry suddenly wanted the bird out as soon as possible.

He found a couple of Sickles and put them in the bird’s pouch, who then to-whited happily and quickly flew back out into the snowfall through the chimney.

Severus snuggled closer, clearly not fully awake and draped a hand across the Saviour’s tired body. Harry stretched out, kissed the black head softly then took the Prophet in his hand.

He made a noise that couldn't be described by any means. It was a mix of a snort and a groan with a hint of a surprised hick. Severus’s head rose from the pillow upon hearing the sound, mostly suspecting that a wild creature had found refuge in his bedroom from the cold outside.

“Severus...,” said the Chosen One carefully. “I think you should see this...”

“What?” Groaned the man sitting up.

“We made front page,” Harry answered trying not to laugh or cry. He still couldn't decide which he wanted more.

Snape had his priorities, so he kissed Harry first then turned his attention to the paper too.

The Daily Prophet, most well-known in the Wizarding World, the one paper which usually even the most secluded wizard could get a hand on, now portrayed Severus Snape and Harry Potter merrily dancing among other couples on its front page. They twirled and twisted on the picture dancing a never ending waltz, so obviously lost in each other, Harry was surprised there wasn’t someone already pounding on Snape’s office door.

The headline was, “Muggles in Hogwarts!” and right below it the subhead read, “Slytherin Headmaster, Gryffindor changes”.

Harry looked at his lover who seemed somewhere between horrified and scandalized. “Severus Snape (38), youngest Headmaster ever to occupy the important position let the reporters inside the well guarded iron gates of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry,” read Harry the article. “The first Annual Open Christmas Gala (originally proposed by none other than our favourite national hero, Harry Potter) held yesterday in the ancient Castle was hosted not just for the Wizarding Community. Headmaster Snape introduced a new reform where non-magical parents or legal guardians and immediate relatives of the students of Hogwarts where also allowed to visit the Christmas celebration. Upon questioned why he had broken one of the most important rules of the School, the Headmaster answered, ‘This will be our first Christmas after a very dark period and it calls for celebration. Unity is important in our school and many of our students with Muggle parentage wished to attend this celebration. Why show favouritism towards those with only magical ancestry? Is it not the very thing we have been fighting against all along the war?’ Contrary to rumours, Harry Potter (18) seemed to be a great supporter of the young Headmaster and his unconventional changes. ‘They had their disagreement prior to the war, but I can assure you Mr. Potter and Professor Snape share a mutual amity nowadays,’ said Professor Minerva McGonagall (83). When we asked the Deputy Headmistress what she thought about the great changes she promptly answered, ‘I wholeheartedly support them.’ Unfortunately we could not ask more from the respected witch as she was swept away by Headmistress Olympe Maxime for a slow waltz. But is it truly just friendship between the two heroes of our Wizarding Community, one might ask upon seeing some of the pictures of the Headmaster and Mr. Potter. Not just once was Professor Snape spotted having intimate conversation with Mr. Potter (see on pg. 2) or kindly holding the Saviour’s godson while the young man welcomed the boy’s grandmother (see on pg. 3). Was their waltz just a jolly stunt to entertain their guests or can we finally see Gryffindor and Slytherin House unite? (see full article on pg 2-6).” Harry cleared his throat and opened the newspaper.

The moving evidence of their _not just amity_ stared right back at him on the next page right away. With Teddy on his arm, Severus watched him with a kind smile while Harry’s attention was focused on Andromeda. He showed the picture to the Headmaster.

“I never looked at you like that,” he snorted then turned around burrowing himself under soft, warm blankets.

Harry looked at the loving expression once more then dropped the paper onto the ground. He snuggled to Severus craving the other wizard’s warmness. “It’s not that bad. It can help us.”

“And just how exactly would it help me that the community learned that I bedded one of my students?”

“Oh, they don't know that,” smiled the Gryffindor his lips sliding against the older wizard’s ear. “They only know that I support you, that you care for me, that we ‘share a mutual amity’ and that we can waltz very nicely. It could help when we become public.”

Severus turned around under the covers and fought his way across the myriad of plies of the blanket between them before he could sneak a cold hand on Harry’s hip and slither closer to the young man.

“So your plan is to let the rumours spread, let everyone believe that there is more than what meets the eyes and when you finally leave this school you will just suddenly say... what exactly?”

“Oh I won’t yet say anything,” Harry grinned giving a kiss to the long nose. “They will spot us in Leaky Cauldron, sharing a meal or a pint. Then a few days later in Diagon Ally, strolling. There will be a few photos about us in Hogsmeade too.”

“Oh so we will be dining in the Three Broomstick next summer? Shall I make the reservations?” Severus arched an eyebrow.

“Dining? Yeah, I guess we could do that too. I was thinking more on the line of snogging in the Hog’s Head. You know, less people, more privacy.”

“Privacy? The photo will be in the Daily Fucking Prophet,” snorted the professor, planting kisses along Harry’s jaw.

“The Witch Weekly,” corrected the Gryffindor. “We have to keep the Prophet out of it until the announcement. Maybe during a big Ministry Gala? I don't know, we’ll figure it out... something will come up.”

“You thought it all out, didn't you?” Asked the Slytherin climbing over the young wizard.

“Been thinking about it for a while now, yes,” Harry admitted grinning up at the man. His morning erection only hardened even more when Severus sat snugly onto his groin, rubbing himself to the Chosen One with small rolls of his hips.

They sighed in union, eyes roaming on their naked bodies, hands sliding leisurely on chest, thighs arms and shoulders.

“So, six more months then?”

“Shouldn’t be a difficulty,” said Severus as he leant over him, his ink black hair cascading forward. “We both have kept secrets longer than that.”

(◡‿◡✿) ******************* (✿◡‿◡)

Many miles away, in a comfortable and warm room of the Malfoy Manor, a blond Slytherin had just finished reading the article in the Daily Prophet. He was smiling, which generally would have indicated he was up to something bad. This time however, his smile meant, he was up to something wicked.

People always said friends were for good times and bad times, but Draco Malfoy was more concerned about the boring times. After all, he couldn't let his friend’s new relationship sink to boredom now, could he? Surely with a bit of caution, these pranks could easily go on for a couple more months.

(◡‿◡✿) ******************* (✿◡‿◡)

**The End**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **I would like to thank each and every one of you for reading this story! When i started writing it I didnt know you guys will enjoy it so much, but the responses were amazing and I'm just delighted to see your comments on it!  
> **  
>  I do hope the smut was worth waiting for and that the last chapter met your expectations :3  
> I'll be coming back with a new story shortly, until then, feel free to approach me with any questions or remarks. Oh and while browsing Tumblr's snarry tag, I accidentally came across a reclist and this story was on it, and dear person, if you're reading this, you have no idea how happy i was when I saw that *‿*


End file.
